Tash's Nightmare
by Qwerty124212121
Summary: A story set after The Last Battle. Susan is kidnapped and dragged to the realm of Tash, and a very dear friend needs to help her escape.
1. Chapter 1

Tash's Nightmare

 **A/N: So this is my first actual fanfic that I plan on writing to completion. Any constructive completion is appreciated; I'm new to writing fanfiction. This is basically Susan's story after The Last Battle. C.S. Lewis mentioned that the demon deity of Calormen had his own realm, but beyond that it was never actually explored. I thought, while writing about Susan's ultimate fate, it would be interesting to write a story set in Tash's realm, which I have dubbed the Nightmare, and explore the Calormen pantheon and their relationship to Aslan, at least how I see it.**

 **Disclaimer: Y'know what? Screw it. You all know I didn't write the original Chronicles of Narnia. Is this disclaimer even necessary? C.S. Lewis has been dead for years. You get the picture.**

 **Chapter 1**

It was late that night when Charlie came home. He opened the door to the barracks and collapsed on to his bunk. "Hey, airman," greeted Jones. "Tired?"

Charlie opened one eye and looked at the giant of a man. He sighed. "Twelve hour shifts every day this week and I was out last night with my girl," he groaned. "You do the math."

Jones laughed. "Ha! I wish I could, but I was never no good in math," he said.

"It means I'm tired, you big lunk."

Jones laughed again. "Well, sweet dreams princess," he joked and made his way toward the door, but stopped after a few feet and turned around. "Oh, and by the way, you got a letter from your girl. It's on the nightstand."

A letter? That was unusual. Letter writing was for the clichéd high school sweethearts, separated by a sea and a war while they both eagerly awaited to be reunited, only for the man to come home changed and distant, like in all the war movies.

Susan, on the other hand, lived barely an hour away. Why didn't she just call him?

For a few minutes, Charlie debated with himself. Should he open the letter, just to see what she wrote? Or maybe it wasn't important and he could read it tomorrow morning before roll call.

For a little bit, he chose the second option, until his curiosity finally won out. "Goddamn it, Jones," he cursed. If his friend hadn't let him know about the letter, he wouldn't be in this bind, would he?

Fumbling around, he opened the letter and read it quickly. It was from Susan's landlord. But why didn't Tunlaw call him?

 _Mr. Perot,_

 _Firstly, allow me to apologize for sending a letter instead of calling; the phone lines are down all up and down the street._

 _Susan is missing. I don't know where she's gone off to, and I haven't heard from her for three days running now. The door to her flat is locked, and my key suddenly doesn't work. Please, come to London as soon as you can! I've notified the police, and they merely shrugged me off, said horrible things and told me I was a neurotic old man._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Mr. Tunlaw_

And then Charlie was suddenly full of energy and despair. Tunlaw wasn't one to fuck with him (few people were), and it was unlike Susan to just vanish. "But I just saw her last night!" he said to himself. So, if it wasn't Susan last night, who did he take to dinner? But that was ridiculous; Tunlaw probably went senile, finally.

Still though…Charlie knew he loved Susan. He sighed. Would he really want to take a chance, knowing she might be in danger? Maybe he just didn't see Susan in the hallway for a couple of days, and she went missing after last night. Either way, he mentioned his key suddenly wasn't working, so someone had changed the lock.

The only explanation Charlie could think of was that Susan changed the lock on her door because something or someone was making her feel unsafe, threatening her enough that she felt she had to take such drastic measures. The last thing she needed was a creep stalking her. _And she was too terrified to tell me…_

Charlie crushed the letter in his fist, grabbed his sidearm and flew out the door. He ran as fast as he could to Captain Crain's office, who had stepped outside for a quick smoke break and nearly collided with him.

"Whoa! Dammit, airman!" he spat. "What in God's name are you doin'?"

"Sir!" said Charlie with a quick salute and held up the letter. "Sir, I have a letter, from a lord-land, I mean landlord, about Susan, and—"

"Compose yourself, soldier!" Crain snapped. He ashed his cigarette against the wall, letting the butt drop into the soil below and stomped on it. "Get inside, Charlie," he ordered.

Charlie did as told, but before he had taken a seat, he stuck the crumpled up letter in Craig's face. "Please, sir, there's no time," Charlie begged.

Crain grabbed the letter, made his way towards his desk, pulled a pair of reading glasses out of the top drawer and read it, muttering to himself as he did. After a moment, he threw it back down on the desk, turned to his radio and said to Charlie, "you're lucky you did a damn fine job in Korea, airman." He turned to the radio. "Get me a transport to the village—get a cab to London, or a bus, or whatever the fuck you can do to get Perot to London. Now!"

"Thank you, sir," said Charlie. He saluted again, this time a proper salute, and not a hasty one.

"You have one day," Crain warned, unmoved. "If you're not back by roll-call the day after tomorrow, you're doing another twelve-hour shift. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

* * *

 _The ride to London was agonizingly long. Charlie was nearly sick with worry, and yet he found his mind wandering back to when he first met Susan._

 _It was two years ago, in January of 1953. Charlie had just been transferred to RAF Lakenheath on security detail after three years in Korea. He and a couple of other airmen had gone down to London on their first night off, finding themselves in a dimly lit pub with the simple plan of getting shit-faced._

 _But Charlie's plans of drunkenness went out the window the minute he saw her._

 _She was with a group of her own friends at a booth, no doubt relaxing after their own long day. The girls surrounding her were nurses, still in uniform from the day's shift, but she was clearly not one herself. She was older than the rest of them, and they were already three drinks deep, judging by the number of margarita glasses that littered the table._

 _Except her. The tall one with the jet-black hair was clearly not as buzzed as the rest of them, happily chatting away with each other._

 _And then she looked up. Charlie's reflexes failed him as his mind told his head to move away, to avoid meeting her gaze, but it was too late. She saw him, calmly got up and fluidly, gracefully, made her way over to the bar and sat down next to him._

 _She motioned to the bartender, though truth be told she didn't have to, as the greasy man was enchanted the moment she sat down. "Whisky straight, please," she ordered. Her voice was lovely, like silk from another world._

 _"_ _You don't mess around, do you?" said Charlie, and he could have slapped himself immediately._

 _She smiled, a sweet smile Charlie nearly dropped dead at. "Unlike most women, I know what I want," she declared._

 _Charlie's thoughts were racing. This girl wasn't destined to be a simple nurse or a housewife, like most women of the 50's. In fact, she was dressed formally, the kind of style he'd seen the students around King's College don. "Fancy yourself a cut above the ordinary, do you?" He was on autopilot, his brain going into panic mode as his heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. He was afraid of having a heart attack. "I would have to agree."_

 _She smiled again as she turned to him. "Susan," she introduced herself, but she might as well have been trying to establish first communications with a dim-witted Neanderthal, as Charlie was stunned. She cocked her head in curiosity when he remained silent. "Don't you have a name?"_

 _"_ _Y-yes," he stammered. "Charlie—it's Charlie. Charles for short. I mean Charlie for short." He stuck out his hand for her to shake, but it was sweaty and trembling._

 _She laughed, clearly amused at his fumbling. "Are American soldiers always so shy?" she asked._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Charlie kicked down the door to Susan's flat, having lost patience with Tunlaw's fumbling and struggling with the keys that clearly didn't work.

"Dear goodness me!" exclaimed the elderly landlord as he peeked inside. Charlie just stared open mouthed, silently agreeing with Tunlaw's assessment of the situation.

The place was trashed. Not just tables overturned and loose papers everywhere, but trashed as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and demolished every last thing they could find. Walls, tables, chairs—nothing was spared. Pieces of drywall were deposited in heaps and piles all over the floor, the rest in a fine dust coating the place in a messy, sheer white blanket.

"What happened here?" asked Tunlaw.

"How could no one notice this?" asked Charlie. He turned back to Tunlaw with a stern look.

"Oh, don't look at me," answered the landlord in a defensive tone. "I certainly haven't got any ideas."

"Who was the last person to visit her?"

"You were, three days ago."

"Clearly, I wasn't," Charlie snapped. "Did you hear anything when this happened? Nobody could pull this off without making a racket."

"Nothing, Charles."

Charlie turned around in a huff. "Useless," he growled to himself under his breath. "Call the cops."

"I already told you I tried earlier but—"

" _TRY AGAIN!"_

Tunlaw scurried away in a fright, like a weasel from a rabid dog.

Charlie began walking around the apartment. If it was a robbery, they certainly didn't take anything valuable, as all the artifacts Susan collected on various trips were left behind. He made his way to the bedroom, opened the jewelry box and found, to his surprise, that all the jewelry he bought her was still there: the cheap diamond necklace he'd sacrificed five paychecks to buy, a couple of gold armbands she received from an archaeological dig in Egypt, a jade necklace given to her as a gift from a Mongol nomad, and…something he hadn't seen before.

"What's this?" Charlie closed the jewelry box, noticing two rings lying beside it. One was a bright yellow, and the other a murky green. He certainly didn't notice them a few minutes ago, when he walked into the room. As far as he knew, they suddenly appeared there without him noticing. "But how…?"

"Pretty rings, aren't they?" said a voice. Charlie whipped around and faced its source, looking down the barrel of his sidearm. To his shock, he found that the voice didn't come from a person, rather it came from an enormous cat, likely a leopard or a jaguar. And it just sat there on the bed, not doing anything, so Charlie simply held the gun and didn't shoot. He was frozen with fear, doubting his own sanity. "I must be losing it…" he muttered.

"No," said the cat, "you're perfectly sane." Her voice was feminine, delicate and regal, and carried a slight echo with it. It was magical, but not enchanting.

"I don't believe you," said Charlie.

"Then don't," the cat replied. Indifference and apathy dripped from her voice. "But if you want to see lovely Susan again, you're going to need my help." She began to lick her paw, grooming the spotted fur and looking quite content.

"A talking leopard," said Charlie, "is offering to help me find my missing girlfriend."

"Jaguar," she corrected.

"Whatever. Do you know anything about what happened here?"

"I know everything that happened here."

"Well?" said Charlie expectantly. "Tell me!"

The Jaguar paused in her grooming, her green slit eyes looking up at him, measuring him. "Did she ever mention a place called Narnia?"

 _...Narnia_. That word brought back memories. "Yeah…Narnia was a game she used to play with her siblings."

"The short version," the Jaguar explained, "is that Susan was dragged to Hell."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You can't. You want proof?" she challenged. "Pick up the yellow ring."

Charlie thought for a moment, keeping his gun on the Jaguar. She was clearly intelligent, and if she wanted him dead she would've killed him already without revealing her intelligence. And because she was intelligent, she must have some purpose in talking to him.

If nothing else, Charlie reasoned the Jaguar's connection to Susan's disappearance could help him find her.

"Well?" said the Jaguar impatiently.

Charlie slowly made his way towards the nightstand, keeping his sidearm aimed between her eyes. He glanced down briefly at the nightstand and grabbed the yellow ring.

But as soon as he touched it, the world melted away. Nothing but blue remained, with rays of sunlight penetrating the murkiness. He was falling upward, like he was swimming towards the surface of a pool, but he wasn't moving and he could still breathe. Rather suddenly, he broke the surface of a small pond, and overcoming his shock, he crawled onto a lush and green forest floor.

Charlie looked up as a sense of calm washed over him. He stood up slowly, noting the huge trunks of the trees around him, reaching up as their leaves blocked any and all sunlight. Instead the place was somehow bathed in an otherworldly green light. A shallow pool of water, identical to the one he just crawled out of, dotted the landscape every few meters. It was, though strange, quite beautiful.

And there was a lion up ahead, staring at him with glowing yellow eyes. "You must be Aslan," called Charlie.

"Yes," he responded. His voice, like the Jaguar's, carried with it an echo, but unlike the Jaguar's, it carried something _more,_ something that commanded the attention of all, wicked or wise. Or both. Aslan walked forward.

Charlie had seen lions before in zoos and in picture books, but this Aslan was unlike any he had encountered. He was majestic, as most lions were, but also terrifying, benevolent, beautiful, and ugly all at once. He commanded a sense of intelligence, the kind of wisdom that held secrets so terrible that only the immortal was capable of holding while keeping his sanity intact. But within such wisdom, there was also infinite kindness, and Charlie knew that when Aslan searched and sifted through the souls of mortal men, he searched only for the goodness within.

Aslan stopped a few feet from him. He was giant, his head coming up to Charlie's shoulder. "Walk with me," he commanded. Aslan led the way through the forest, and Charlie followed.

"This is Wood Between the Worlds," explained Aslan. He stopped by one of the shallow pools of water and looked into it. "Each of these is a portal to another realm," he explained. "Not the planets and stars you see from your front porch, mind you; an entirely different realm altogether, all of which are attached to the Wood."

"A multiverse," said Charlie.

"Indeed."

"I feel like I could stay here forever," said Charlie. "Why'd I come here again?" His memory was rapidly failing him. To find…someone. Who was it again? Sally? Sara? No, those didn't sound right. He was on the verge of letting it go when it suddenly came back to him, his memory held afloat by an outside force.

"Susan!" he cried.

"The Wood makes remembering difficult," said Aslan. "Here, there is no purpose, and its passive nature infects all who enter."

Charlie shook his head. Suddenly, his mind was clear, his heart racing. "The Jaguar told me to come here," he recalled. "Can you help me?"

Aslan stopped by another pool, this one dried up long ago. "I can help you, yes," he answered. "But it will be Azaroth who guides you."

"Then what the hell will you do?"

"Get you started on the path to your loved one."

"And where might that path lead?" Charlie asked, letting an edge creep into his voice. Because Aslan (presumably) held up his memory and cancelled out the Wood's magic, Charlie had enough of a clear head to be impatient, and he wanted answers. He found himself rather all at once sick of the Lion's talking—about the Wood, of the worlds it led to, and of Aslan's laid back demeanor, as if he really didn't care what happened to Susan one way or another. Charlie just wanted Susan back, something he planned to do with or without any help.

Aslan breathed in and let out a heavy sigh, and the Wood melted away. In its place, there was a grassy field in an unknown mountain range. Again, Charlie felt a sense of bliss replace his urgency, but Aslan quickly canceled it out and held his wits afloat as before.

"This is my Country," the lion explained, "where the righteous arrive after their own time has ended in their own realm. The wicked are taken to the Nightmare, where Susan is being held."

Instantly, the surroundings were replaced by the Wood, and the two were back by the dried-up pool.

"Susan was dragged into Hell," said Charlie.

"Yes," affirmed Aslan, "but not by my doing. It was the demon Tash, my opposite, my enemy."

"Why?" asked Charlie. "What does Susan have that this what's-his-face would want?"

Aslan made a rumbling sound, as if in contemplation, and thought for a moment. "Life is full of uncertainties," he eventually answered. "When your adventure is over, you will either accept that it happened and move on, or wonder till it drives you mad."

Charlie took the Lion's answer as a warning that he wasn't meant to know for certain. "So, what have you got to lose in all this?"

Aslan stomped his front paw on the ground, and clawed at the soil. "Tash overstepped," he said angrily. "Whether she believes it or not, Susan was once the High Queen of Narnia, a realm which is no more, and had dealt with me personally. She fought with me and for me."

Charlie, sensing the Lion's growing anger, switched the subject. "Okay, so you're pissed. Good; so am I. Now that we're on the same page, how do we get Susan out of the Nightmare?"

Aslan walked forward and touched his nose to the dry dirt at the bottom of the pool. Instantly, it filled with water, sparkling in the emerald light of the Wood. "This was once the realm of Charn," he said. "It also is no more, but I have repurposed the void it once occupied. Enter this new realm, and you shall find an agent of mine who has walked the streets of the Nightmare. He will prepare you, train you."

"But that'd waste valuable time!" protested Charlie. "Susan's in the Nightmare suffering untold tortures, and you want me to take my sweet time to prepare?"

"Do you think so little of me, boy?" growled Aslan. Charlie recoiled at the Lion's sudden anger. "This new realm exists beyond time as it is known in other worlds. None will pass in comparison to the Nightmare, and so none is wasted. Now go, enter this realm. Azaroth and my agent await."

Aslan whipped his head towards the pool, and Charlie felt an invisible force shove him in as he cried out in surprise. Again, he was falling, swimming but not moving, submerged but still breathing, until the water around him faded and ground revealed itself beneath his feet and Charlie fell on his ass from the unexpected landing. He got up and dusted himself off, but stopped, for ahead of him stood a large grey rat, standing upright.

The Rat smiled, his fangs showing in excitement. "Well, you must be Charles then, eh?" he greeted jovially. "Aslan said you'd be coming."

Charlie just stared.

"At a loss then, are ye?" The Rat let out a hearty laugh. He then bowed as a gentlemanly duelist would, humble but dangerous. "Sir Reepicheep, at your service."

* * *

 _It was twilight on the streets of London. The streetlamps were just beginning to glow as the sun set behind the concrete horizon. The autumn air whipped at the late-night stragglers, as drunks stumbled out of pubs, exchanging insults with the patrons still inside, factory workers briskly fled along the sidewalks, eager to be home after a long day's work, and a few children stretching out the day as long as they could, at least until the local patrolmen forced them to start making their way home, exchanging jeers and mean looks with each other._

 _Susan moved closer to Charlie as they walked down the street. "It's cold," she noted._

 _"_ _Bah," spat Charlie. "This ain't nothing. Ever been on the streets of Michigan in the winter?"_

 _"_ _No. That where you're from?"_

 _"_ _Yes, and I can tell you that December in Detroit is hell frozen over."_

 _Susan laughed. "If it was so cold, why didn't you spend more time inside?"_

 _"_ _Inside?" said Charlie. "Believe me, I would've loved to. Except I had no home."_

 _"_ _You were homeless?" Susan was horribly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," she stammered, "I—I didn't know…"_

 _"_ _Hehe! Look at your face, it's so dang red!" Charlie laughed, as if it were no big deal. "Don't be sorry—I wasn't actually homeless. Mom died when I was eight, but Father Pierre, the priest of an old French Catholic church took me in and raised me."_

 _"_ _In an orphanage?" Susan asked._

 _"_ _Nope," he answered. "There really weren't any orphanages. I just slept in the Church basement at night, and during the day, Father Pierre and the nuns would homeschool me." He turned to her and asked, "what about you? You don't seem to talk much about your family."_

 _"_ _Oh…" Susan slowed down and stopped. Charlie turned around to see her trembling and her face harboring a painful expression._

 _"_ _Forget it," he said quickly, "you don't have to answer." Breathing a sigh of relief, Susan recovered and they walked on._

 _"_ _So…what did you do for fun?" Susan asked, trying to reignite the conversation. It was a stupid question, but it was better than walking in silence._

 _"_ _As a kid?" Charlie thought for a moment. "There wasn't much time for fun. If Father Pierre or the nuns weren't tutoring me, they'd have me doing chores." His voice switched to a high pitched mocking tone, as a child would make fun of his mother. "Idle hands bring the Devil," he crowed._

 _Susan laughed. "Is that what the nuns would say?"_

 _"_ _Yup," said Charlie. "Sister Linda's mantra. But I still found ways to screw around."_

 _"_ _Such as?"_

 _"Well...when I wasn't being tutored or doing chores, I was usually on the streets." Charlie laughed lightly, nostalgia taking over his memory._ _"I got into more fights than I care to admit, and I might've conned a worker or two. Sometimes, I'd play pranks on the nuns." A wicked smile overcame his features. "One time, I_ _poured out ice-cold water on their chairs before they sat down for their afternoon prayers."_

 _Susan looked aghast, mouth open in shock. "You did not," she exclaimed. "That's horrible!"_

 _But_ _Charlie just continued to smile, apparently proud of himself. "Yeah? Well, you should've been there when the sat down. I swear they jumped at least five feet in the air."_

 _Susan laughed. "Did they ever catch you?"_

 _"_ _Are you kidding? I got my ass kicked," he said. "Sister Selma beat me with a yardstick, and she always hit_ hard. _Then Father Pierre said I'd be doing chores for the nuns until they were satisfied I learned a lesson."_

 _"_ _That sounds awful," said Susan._

 _"_ _Worth it," said Charlie, but he quietly added, "just barely, though. Angry nuns don't give out the easy chores, and there were seven of them constantly hovering, just waiting for an excuse to smack me."_

 _Susan laughed again as she took his arm in hers, and they walked on._

 **A/N: If you're wondering why I picked a jaguar, it's because Aslan is a lion, so I figured another deity should also be represented by a big cat, but not a lion, because lion is king and is symbolic of Aslan's authority. Two lions would throw this symbolism out the window, and jaguars are my favorite of the big cats anyway.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It had been a month in the new world. Well, sort of. Reepicheep had to keep reminding Charlie that time within this realm never passed, and that the passing of night and day only existed to maintain their sleeping and training schedules. "Time passing without passing," the Mouse chuckled to himself. "This world moves without Time." It was a difficult concept to grasp, one that Charlie struggled with for the first two weeks.

"It certainly doesn't _feel_ like time isn't passing," he'd complain.

"Well, it isn't," said Reepicheep. "And it was Aslan's design, so we must trust in His way." This was usually his answer when he couldn't think up one on his own.

But despite Charlie's doubts, Aslan would appear at times, standing at the edge of the clearing and watching as the two trained, never saying a word. Charlie guessed the Lion had other things to worry about, problems to solve in other worlds that had nothing to do with him. Still, Aslan's presence at all was reassuring, and soon Charlie began to trust that Time didn't truly move.

As for the actual training, it was intense, and it had started the day he arrived.

Immediately after Reepicheep introduced himself, he broke off two branches from a nearby tree and threw one at Charlie. "Now, fight!" the Rat cried, and leapt forward with unnatural speed.

Charlie, even with all his military special forces training, could not keep up with the barrage of attacks, and within five seconds he knew he'd have bruises all over his body. Within ten, Reepicheep had hit him on the hand and Charlie dropped the stick with a cry of pain.

"Tsk, tsk," said the Mouse, as he bent down to pick up Charlie's weapon. "Some work is required."

"No shit," said Charlie as he massaged his sore arms. "And why with the sticks? Can't I just walk into the Nightmare with an assault rifle and waste 'em?" he asked.

"I already tried firearms," replied Reepicheep. "Swords work much better against the Nightmare's monsters. Bullets did next to nothing, even with Aslan's blessing upon them."

One day, about a month into his training, and after a particularly intense day, the Mouse, panting heavily, looked up at the horizon and noted the sun had begun to set. "We're done for the day," he declared. Charlie silently thanked God, as he was drenched in sweat and his muscles were sore. Reepicheep, meanwhile, walked over to the center of the clearing and drove his stick into the soil. "Hmm…" The Mouse sniffed at the ground for a minute, catching something of interest.

"What?"

"There's still magic from the creation of this world," Reepicheep replied. He curled himself up on the ground into a tight ball. The sun had set; night had fallen.

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie.

Reepicheep turned over. "Eh? Oh, the magic—this world is still forming itself," he explained, "and magic still penetrates very deep."

"What does that mean?" asked Charlie. He yawned, realizing he didn't actually care, but he listened to the Mouse anyway.

"It means strange things can happen, for this realm's natural laws do not exist yet. Which reminds me—something Azaroth gave me—" Reepicheep arose and, mumbling to himself all the while, went into his bag that he kept at the edge of the clearing (containing the Mouse's favorite foods, certain magical trinkets, paper and quill and ink for notes on training, a few blunted training weapons, and so forth) and pulled out a strange and terrible looking stone knife.

"What's that?" asked Charlie.

"It's a knife," he replied simply. He looked up, and seeing Charlie's confused expression was not resolved, exclaimed, "dear me! Did Queen Susan never tell you of her adventures in Narnia?"

"She told me it was a fantasy game she played with her siblings when they were bored staying at some old coot's countryside manor," Charlie recalled after a moment.

Reepicheep laughed again, but a sad gleam betrayed him in his eyes. "A game?" He gave an amused laugh. "Goodness me, Narnia was most certainly _not_ a game!"

"Yeah, I figured that out."

And so, Reepicheep delved into the history of Narnia, and despite his earlier lack of interest, Charlie listened, perhaps not intently, but the Mouse was certainly not talking to a statue, either.

He began with a history of Narnia—how Professor Kirke as a child brought Jadis, the White Witch, at the dawn of time in Narnia; how the reign of King Frank and Queen Helen's line came to an end after nine hundred years, when it was overthrown by Jadis; how Jadis herself was overthrown by the four Pevensie children; how the White Witch had used the very knife Reepicheep now held to "sacrifice" Aslan at the Stone Table in exchange for Edmund's life being spared; how Aslan returned from the dead; and finally, Reepicheep ended with the battle resulting in Jadis's death and the defeat of her army. "And so," Reepicheep concluded after about a half hour, "that is the history I was taught as a young mouse, of the four who sat upon the throne at Cair Paravel."

He then planted the knife up to the hilt in the soft soil in the clearing's center, pulled his own sword out, and proceeded to curl back up into a tight ball. "Now, we sleep, child," he said and yawned. "Tomorrow at sunrise we begin training. Be proud of yourself; you're nearly ready to visit the Nightmare."

Althoug sore, Charlie wasn't tired yet. For a few minutes he tossed and turned on the plush soft grass of the clearing. No blankets were needed, nor beds of any kind, as per Aslan's design—hard and rough in daylight, yet at night, the world was as soft as the most luxurious mattress. Despite the comfort provided by the magic, a strange urge to explore had overtaken him, so without much thought, Charlie got up and disappeared behind the trees at the edge of the clearing.

* * *

 _August 5_ _th_ _, 1953, 00:23 hours, North Korea_

 _It was dark. Charlie frantically followed the rest of his team through the forest, holding up an injured U.N. aid worker. "C'mon, buddy," he encouraged the man, who was limping terribly. Enemy soldiers were pursuing them, getting closer every second._

 _A shot whizzed past Charlie's ear, coming from ahead. Before he could warn his squad, they were ambushed, somehow overtaken from behind. Charlie grabbed the prisoner and ducked down behind a tree and into the bushes as gunfire erupted._

 _When it was over, Charlie didn't move. The footsteps of enemy soldiers kept getting closer, then further, then closer again, as they searched around, shouting commands at each other in Korean. He wished their translator were still with them. That might give him some clue as to how to proceed, if he knew what they were thinking. But, finally, as the U.S. support helicopter flew low overhead, its spotlight shining down on the forest, the enemy soldiers retreated to their camp._

 _Relieved, Charlie was about to get up and help the prisoner stand when the light overhead suddenly turned to an intense orange and, a moment later, the huge deafening boom of an explosion hit his ears and he ducked back to the forest floor. Small pieces of flaming metal rained around him, igniting the brush, and Charlie could only stay still on the ground, alone, as the world around him burned…_

 _..._ _..._

 _"_ _Ha!" Charlie awoke with a start and bolted upright, sweating profusely. Where was he?_

 _In a bed, it seemed. He looked out the window, noting the dull light of a city skyline and the sounds of a city street stories below. He was in an apartment. Such small realizations came slowly as his mind began to recover from the shock of the nightmare._

 _Something beside him stirred. "Charlie?" she called. A light clicked in his head. Some_ one.

 _Susan._

 _Most of it came back quickly after that. He was in Susan's flat in London. He remembered taking one week leave from active duty at Lakeheath, spending it with Susan._

 _"_ _Charlie?" she called again softly. She sat up, the city lights illuminating her angelic face. "What's wrong?" she asked._

 _Charlie sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "'Nother nightmare," he said. He felt cold, as if feverish, and his muscles were weak. He felt sick._

 _Susan moved closer to him and held him. "That's the third time in a month," she said, concern in her voice. It had happened while he was still on duty, culminating in a frantic midnight call, and ending with Susan delicately soothing him over the phone back to a state of calm._

 _"_ _Happens," said Charlie. "And three in a month is an all-time low for me."_

 _"_ _I'd prefer it to not happen at all," said Susan, turning to him. "It's not healthy." She was worried; it showed in her eyes, almost sucking Charlie into her gaze, mindlessly adoring her gorgeous eyes._

 _In the end, he held her reassuringly, whispering, "it's fine. I'll be fine, I promise."_

 _"_ _I truly hope so."_

* * *

 **A/N: I've always loved Reepicheep.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **A/N: So unless someone gives me some kind of critique, whether through reviews or PM, I don't care which, I'm going to assume this story is perfect in every way.**

It was morning. Light filtered through the forest leaves and hit Charlie's eyelids. Grumbling, he turned over, but felt the wet nose of an animal nudge him. "I'm still tired," he moaned. "Gimme a few minutes, rat." Then a sharp scratch hit him, manicured claws lightly raking his face. "Ow!" He shot upright, finding Azaroth the Jaguar facing him, sitting on her hindquarters with a curious expression in her eyes. "What the hell?!"

"Be thankful I'm the one standing here and not Reepicheep," she said. She began licking and grooming her paw. "You should start heading back now; you wandered quite far last night."

Charlie, realizing what he did last night, got up and looked around. "So much for exploration," he sighed. "Nothing but trees."

"What else did you expect?" said Azaroth. "Aslan designed this world with the sole purpose of training and preparation."

"Still, he could've jazzed it up a bit," said Charlie. "Maybe put in some buildings—or if a natural thing is what he was goin' for, maybe some deer and wildlife. Something, y'know?"

Azaroth didn't even look up from her (seemingly constant) grooming. "No point," she said glumly. "This world wasn't meant to be sustained for very long."

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie. Apparently, he had taken off his boots the previous night and sat on the ground putting them back on.

Azaroth yawned. "I mean Aslan will destroy this world after we're done with it."

"Why?" Charlie asked. "I mean, not that I care or anything—just curious."

Azaroth stretched and yawned again. "Because afterwards it will be useless," she answered dryly. "And that's a shame, that you don't care; I am beginning to enjoy the quiet of this forest."

Azaroth then bounded away, leaving Charlie struggling to keep up. The entire way back, he found himself wondering if Aslan typically destroyed realms when they were no longer "useful" to Him. Did the Lion have any goal he was working towards? Were Earth and Narnia and the countless other realms just tools for Him, simple means to an end?

His wondering was cut short, however, when he came to the clearing. Reepicheep was standing over a sword in the center, buried in the soil, walking around it with his paw under his chin, as if in contemplation. Azaroth was next to him, this time laying down and grooming her forearm above her paw.

"What's that?" asked Charlie.

Reepicheep looked up. "Ah! Charles," he greeted. "Remember the knife I stuck in the ground last night?"

"Yeah," said Charlie. "You replaced it with a sword."

"Incorrect," barked Reepicheep. "The knife is still there. It simply _grew_ into this sword you see here."

"Huh?"

"Remember when I told you this world was still forming?" reminded Reepicheep. "Often, in a newly formed world, there is little distinction between living and objects. When the two are brought together, they might meld, and grow into something different." He gestured to the newly formed sword.

"This grew overnight?" asked Charlie. He walked up to it and rested his hand on the hilt.

"Now, be careful, boy, I can hardly lift it myself—"

Charlie pulled it out with ease. "That's 'cause it wasn't meant for a mouse," he said. And it was true. The sword itself was a saber, very slightly curved, while the hilt was a reddish stone like color and had a handguard like a flat band of wrought gold. Charlie held it up, noting the blade looked as if it were made of stone, and went about mentally marking various notches and breaks in the blade. "It looks kind of dull," he said.

"Run your finger along it," suggested Azaroth. Seeing no harm in touching the edge of a dull blade, Charlie did, but immediately regret doing so, as a cut flew open along his finger.

"Ah! Dammit." He sucked the cut to stem the bleeding. "Turns out it's not so dull," he said around his finger. Somewhere, from deep within the blade, a faint, almost inaudible sound rang out, akin to the laughter of a deranged child.

"The blade is a lie," said Azaroth. "It is sharp as the finest steel, though it looks of stone; and though it looks of stone, it is light as a feather."

"Not to mention that creepy laugh," said Charlie. "You heard it too, right? Or am I going crazy?"

"I heard it as well," said Reepicheep. "But look!" He stood at attention and pointed to the blade where Charlie had cut himself, for the blood rapidly disappeared, and a fainter and more subdued version of the laugh rang out; if the sword had a face, one could imagine a subtle satisfied smirk to accompany this second laugh. Although it wasn't a haunted doll, or a zombie, or a ghost, Charlie couldn't help but feel this strange sword was the creepiest thing he had ever encountered. He backed up and swung it around a couple of times, wondering if the blood was truly absorbed or just stuck somewhere within the blade, but nothing came out.

Azaroth laughed. "Indeed the sword is a liar."

"A liar that laughs," replied Charlie.

"We should name it The Liar's Laugh," said Reepicheep. "It rhymes!" And the Mouse himself laughed at his own realization.

"Now, Reepicheep," said Azaroth, who had gone back to grooming her paws, "Charlie will be the sword's master, so it is only fitting that he name it—that is," she turned to Charlie, "if you want to at all."

Charlie swung the sword a couple more times. "Liar's Laugh," he said to the sword, and a deep hum could be felt and heard, a throbbing sigh of agreement and contentment emanating from deep within the steel, as if it were alive on some level. "I like it," he said, and he silently he thought to himself, "and so does the Liar's Laugh."

* * *

 _Father Pierre came into the basement after he had supper, with a steaming plate of chicken and vegetables for his charge. "Honestly Father," protested Sister Abigail, "this food is too rich. How's a boy supposed to grow up with humility when we spoil him so? Especially one who lies?"_

 _"A fair point, Sister," said Father Pierre. "We should all eat less luxuriously, for as Christ Himself said to Matthew, 'sell all that you possess and distribute it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven."_

 _Sister Abigail stood up a little straighter, for she had seemingly managed to talk some sense into the old man. "Exactly what I'm trying to say," she sighed exasperatedly._

 _"And would you like to begin this trend, Sister?" asked Father Pierre. He knew for a fact that none of the Church staff, himself included, ate plainly as Christ instructed._

 _Sister Abigail's pride deflated instantly. The corner of her mouth curled in a snarl of embarrassment and anger. "No," she answered honestly._

 _"Alright, then keep your mouth shut," Pierre snapped. "Remember the boy's history; Charlie is more deserving than any of us in the eyes of the Lord."_

 _Sister Abigail turned on her heel and swiftly walked away._

 _Father Pierre walked through the door and descended the stairs to the basement. The basement itself was not a pretty place; it was dark, drafty, and cold. But through some innovative design and the digging up of old furniture, the nuns and Father Pierre had managed to make it a livable environment._

 _Charlie had, over the years, customized it to his own design as well. He had gone to antique sales all around the city with money he earned from various (and no doubt somewhat sketchy) odd jobs, buying himself a more comfortable mattress, some pajamas, and basic other luxuries that he had found and fixed up._

 _One of these amenities was in use by the boy. Father Pierre stepped off the last stair and turned a corner into the cellar, greeted with the sight of Charlie violently going at a dirty moth eaten punching bag. He froze mid-punch when he smelled the food. "Father?"_

 _"You lied to Sister Lina," said Father Pierre as he set the food down on a small wooden table._

 _"What makes you say that?" asked Charlie innocently as he shoveled up mouthfuls of food._

 _For someone so old, Father Pierre had surprising reflexes, which he demonstrated when he grabbed Charlie's arm halfway to his mouth. "Slow down," commanded Pierre. "And do I look stupid? I know you didn't go for a 'simple walk,' boy. Such a poor excuse is an insult to my intelligence."_

 _"Then what do you think I did?" asked Charlie. He ate carefully now, as per his guardian's warning, in a more civilized manner as the two conversed. "Where else do I have to go?"_

 _Father Pierre sighed in exasperation. "Must we play this game, boy? I know you went to the blind pig in Black Bottom."_

 _Charlie laughed, a feigned laugh that Pierre saw right through. "Why would I go to a blind pig, much less one in Black Bottom?"_

 _"To meet that seductress of yours."_

 _"Scarlett?"_

 _"You just proved my point."_

 _Charlie's face went red as the realization he had once again been outsmarted by his guardian dawned upon him. "So what if I left?" he asked, then added quickly, "and anyway, it's over. We got into an argument."_

 _"You mean you saw her with another man, as I warned would happen. There never was any argument."_

 _Charlie sighed in defeat. There was no point in keeping up this angry charade. "I swear, Father, sometimes I think you can read minds."_

 _Father Pierre laughed. "I wasn't always a priest, Charles," he said. "I too was once a boy of fifteen. I made the same mistakes."_

 _"I should've listened to you," said Charlie mournfully._

 _"No," said Pierre._

 _Charlie looked at him, confused. "What do you mean, 'no'?"_

 _"You wouldn't have listened no matter what," he said. "What you should not have done was lie through your teeth to Sister Lina._ That _is your main mistake in all this." He turned to leave the basement, but Charlie stopped him._

 _"How did you deal with it?"_

 _"Deal with what, my boy?"_

 _"When you made the same mistake. It must've hurt, right?"_

 _Father Pierre turned around. "I became a priest, so women were never a problem thereafter."_

 _"I don't want to be a priest," said Charlie in a dull monotone. They'd had that conversation before._

 _"Yes, you've made that clear in the past," said Father Pierre. "Time will have to heal you. Time and the Lord, through prayer." He took the first step up the stairs, but stopped. "And ask the nuns, too, about their mistakes. They were also children at one point, and romance has a troubled history with us all. It comes with growing up in this world, I'm afraid."_

 **A/N: It's hard to write a love story when you're single. I hope I worked this in all right, because the second half of this chapter was born out of my own frustrations, so I'm anxious about the quality and whether it fits.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **A/N: The chapter explores some themes that I want to hear your thoughts on. More so on the second half.**

It wasn't long after the birth of Liar's Laugh that Reepicheep deemed him ready to enter the Nightmare. "Made all the easier that someone else made you a soldier beforehand," he commented.

That was the night before. Now, in the center of the clearing, stood Reepicheep, Charlie, and Azaroth, who was busy grooming her hind legs.

After a hearty breakfast (which though delicious, Charlie wondered where it came from), Reepicheep stood up, grabbed his bag and announced, "presents for the young adventurer!"

"What? Why?" asked Charlie.

"Aslan will be here soon to see us off and give valuable insight," said Azaroth. "Until then, why not?"

So, Reepicheep delved into his bag and pulled out a few things. The first was a small yellow crystal, attached to a brown leather string. "Can't have you going in all by your lonesome, can we?" said the Mouse. "This crystal will allow communication with Azaroth to help you, as she won't be by your side constantly. Think of it as a—oh, what is it that you Earthlings call it—that little plastic box with the magic staff on top…"

"A radio," Charlie said for him.

"Yes! A radio," exclaimed Reepicheep, although he pronounced the word incorrectly and Charlie didn't bother to correct him. "Anyway, use this crystal's power to talk to Azaroth like a radio, when she's not near."

Azaroth looked at him with tired eyes, as if she still needed her morning coffee. "Don't use it unless necessary," she warned. "I have other things that need doing within the Nightmare, so be as little a distraction as possible."

"Yes, yes," said Reepicheep, giddy with excitement. "Now this one's from myself—voila!" and he whipped out a Charlie's sidearm. "Chambered for the bullets used by the Nightmare's inhabitants," he explained. Reepicheep had been teaching Charlie to use firearms as a stunning blow, to catch an enemy off guard and deliver the killing blow with the sword ("A technique I came up with myself when Aslan sent me there to do His bidding," the Mouse often bragged.). Charlie accepted the gifts and then they cleaned up, for Aslan had appeared among at the clearing's edge.

"Children," the Lion thundered as He made His way over to them, "the hour has come. It is time for the young Son of Adam to descend into the Nightmare and rescue the High Queen of Narnia. But first, I have words of wisdom for each of you." Here the Lion walked directly up to the trio, and the three instinctively know to kneel.

Aslan first walked up to Reepicheep. "You have done well, noble knight. You have done as I have asked, and more."

"Thank you, My Lord, thank you," mumbled Reepicheep in awe.

"Silence. Do not grovel, and be proud. When you came to me you spoke of boredom in my Country, and to report dissatisfaction with perfection requires bravery, even in the afterlife." Aslan touched him on the forehead with His nose and said, "for now, you will return. But take heart; I will have more for you to do, when the time comes."

Aslan moved along to Charlie, and looked down upon him sternly. "You have been questioning me," He said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact.

Charlie hung his head low, not wanting to meet the Lion's gaze. "That's just my nature," he said meekly. "I question everything."

Aslan lowered His massive head and forced Charlie to meet his gaze. "Questioning leads to rebellion, which leads to a life of sin," He said. Charlie simply matched the Lion's gaze, never looking down or away in a show of defiance. In his head, there was no clear understanding as to why he was being difficult, but rather somewhere deep within Charlie's soul, the little orphan boy he had always been refused to submit in any way to anything.

But under the near blinding gaze of Aslan, that little orphan boy was losing. And Charlie's eyes began to water, and he choked up; he was about to cry. It took all he had to hold it in, but it was no use. He opened his mouth to wail, but before he could, the feeling left as quickly as it had occurred. Charlie breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Aslan rumbled in approval, then stood up and continued, "but blind faith leads to foolishness in My name. Do not lose your capacity to question, child, for it gives you great strength. Yet beware, for it can be your undoing as well." Aslan touched Charlie's forehead with His nose as He had with Reepicheep, and then moved on to Azaroth.

"Azaroth, though loyal to me, you can be a nuisance," He said. Surprisingly, she had stopped grooming herself to hear His words. "Just guide the boy through the Nightmare. Watch over him and Susan as I would Kings and Queens of Narnia."

"To hear is to obey," she said quietly. She turned to Charlie. "I must return to the Nightmare anyway," she said, "and it doesn't hurt to have help from someone who lives and prowls on the streets of the Nightmare."

"You're my intel, then."

"Indeed."

"But wait," said Reepicheep, "if you rule the Nightmare, why can't you just command the beasts that live there to grant Susan safe passage?" asked Reepicheep.

"Because I do not rule," she answered. "It is Tash who rules, and he is more powerful than myself. He can—and will—direct the masses of beasts to delay you at every turn."

"And if this Tash notices you're helping me—"

"He will destroy me. Or at least, do something to keep me out of his way."

"Such as?" asked Reepicheep.

Azaroth stood up and stretched. "He could destroy my mind, making me as feral as the beasts I watch over," she explained in an uncomfortably nonchalant tone. "Or perhaps he'd expel me from the Nightmare. Or perhaps both. In any scenario, Aslan would be left without an agent to keep an eye on Tash."

Charlie was about to ask a question (or four, or forty, as he had so many), but Aslan interrupted, "and now I see our brave Son of Adam is eager to leave and rescue his loved one. So, without further ado: Azaroth, escort him to the Nightmare."

Azaroth crouched, bared her teeth with a low growl, and pounced. Charlie had barely any time to block, but before her teeth closed around his head, the world faded to white as the Jaguar's rumbling roar echoed in his head.

Charlie awoke in a filthy alleyway, with barely enough room for him to walk with his elbows outstretched. The air smelled of blood and sweat. He was clearly in a city, like the paintings that hung in Susan's flat of London in the Victorian era, with all the buildings in a foreboding gothic architecture, looming over any and all denizens of the road below. The world seemed frozen in an unending twilight as the moon hung full and low against the backdrop of a decrepit city skyline.

The crystal around his neck pulsed once, giving off a brief warm glow. Azaroth's voice came into his head:

 _"_ _Welcome to the Nightmare."_

* * *

Reepicheep and Aslan stood in the clearing after they had left, just staring at the spot Charlie and Azaroth vanished from moments ago.

After a moment, Reepicheep spoke up. "You could just end it now, Sire. Reach in to the Nightmare, and with one swipe of Your great paw—"

"Did I ever, in all the history of Narnia, just right all the wrongs and force good to triumph with a mere swipe of my paw?" He interrupted.

"No…but that was different, was it not?" said Reepicheep.

"How so?"

Reepicheep thought for a moment. When he couldn't think up a good answer, Aslan continued: "Yes, I was more involved. But if I were to simply correct things with the full extent of my power, what would be the point of your existence? I would think that all my children would want some part in their own fate, do you not? And if they should choose evil in the end over good, then so be it. It happened in Charn, as well as various other realms."

Reepicheep sat down on the grass as he absorbed the information. "I see. But I have one more question…"

"Yes?"

"Susan rejected you entirely. Why save her from the Nightmare? She would have ended up there anyway, without faith."

Aslan gave a rumbling sigh. "Susan chose to live her life on Earth. And besides, in the end, her decision saved her life."

"How do You mean?"

Aslan turned to the Mouse. "Was she on the train that led her siblings back to Narnia to witness the end?"

"No," answered Reepicheep. "But that was only because she was selfishly pursuing her own interests."

"I cannot fault her for that," said Aslan, "for is doing what makes one happy truly selfish? Because if so, her 'selfishness' prevented her from boarding that doomed train."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Reepicheep.

"You will," said Aslan. "You always were unquestioning in my leadership, but soon you will come to understand that the act of questioning the unquestionable can be an act of faith in itself."

 **A/N: And there, in the second half, is the idea that spurred this entire story. Someone asked if it's possible for someone on the side of good to meet Aslan and still have doubts, and this is my answer.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Charlie stared ahead of him, wondering what to do next. He clutched the crystal at his neck, realizing that while Azaroth could contact him, he had no idea how to contact her.

But before he could figure it out, a huge, hairy, _thing_ came at him, wielding what looked like an ax in one hand, and dragging a bloody _something_ behind it.

Again, Charlie had little time to react. He dodged the ax on the downswing, blocking the enemy's blade with Liar's Laugh, using his free hand to shove the beast's arm away, and immediately returned the blow with a downward swing into the thing's shoulder. Wailing, the beast retreated, and Charlie flew forward, stabbing it through the heart. With a cry, it fell to its knees, then flat on its face, dead.

Charlie looked it over and nearly threw up. It was clearly once human in form, but now the clothes it wore were tattered and ruined, drenched in dried blood, and it was impossible to tell if it belonged to the beast or someone else. And it was quite clear, in any event, what ruined the clothes: the thing was no longer human, only because he or she had endured a werewolf-like process. The head was somewhere in between a beast and a man's, cracked in some places, reforming in others, as if the process took months instead of one night under a full moon. Its teeth were growing and reshaping in an endlessly painful process, forming large canines that looked like bone-white knives. Large patches of gray fur grew on the claw-like hands, bandaged and re-bandaged numerous times. The legs were deformed and warped into wolf-like shapes, with claws poking through the destroyed shoes. Imagine the shape of a faun's legs, but instead of hooves, paws grew from bound feet. The legs were completely covered in fur, and in places bundles of hair were stuck together with dried blood. As for the thing it had been dragging, it was a net, with an unidentifiable meat pile the size of a human in it.

The crystal pulsed once more, and Azaroth's voice came through. _This is what happens to the damned,_ she explained. _They become beasts over time, and slowly lose their minds and turn on each other. When slaughtered, they revert to their true form, only for the process to repeat itself._

And, sure enough, the hair and blood fell away from the beast, and rather quickly the muscles and bones reformed to reveal a human woman, mumbling mindlessly to herself as she crawled along the filthy ground.

 _She'll regain her sanity, only to lose it once more,_ said Azaroth.

"That truly is a hellish fate," said Charlie. "I hope Susan isn't…"

 _She has time before the Nightmare can infect her fully,_ Azaroth reassured. _As of now, very little—if anything—has changed in her. But hurry, as Time no longer stands still. The longer you take, the more the Nightmare infects both of you._

"Where to next?" asked Charlie as he inspected his sword. Liar's Laugh had begun to absorb the blood, and the sword seemingly acted as a magnet to the sticky red liquid, preventing Charlie from being soaked. The laugh rang out faintly.

 _Up to the street and turn right,_ said Azaroth. _You'll see a tower in the distance. That is where Susan is being held. Be forewarned: Tash knows you're here. He will do everything in his power to stop you._

"Understood," said Charlie. He moved forward carefully with Liar's Laugh at the ready.

* * *

 _It was windy up in the tower. The moon was so large and bright against the crimson sky that the woman standing watch at the tower window was almost blinded. Sometimes, a cloud would obscure part of it, but that would only help for so long. Eventually, her eyes adjusted, and it was no longer an issue, but the deep crimson glow the sky cast could be droll to the eyes, like looking at a brightly colored light for too long._

 _Susan had not been here for very long, but already she was feeling the effects of the Nightmare. Her teeth were beginning to ache, no doubt slowly reforming into fangs. Her senses were beginning to sharpen as well, and it was only a matter of time before she became helpless to the Nightmare; b_ _ut not yet. If she was in this tower, she could defend herself, and soon she'd pick here moment to escape._

 _H_ _er planning was interrupted when she spotted a shadowy flicker of movement between the buildings below, thanks to her years of archery training in Narnia and the Nightmare's early effects on her senses. Another followed nearby, and then another, and another, until there were about five in all. They were beasts, no doubt, and Susan suspected these ones were not quite insane yet, and so were still capable of some form of tactics. These ones had apparently taken to stealth, sneaking between buildings, using insane ones as a distraction, quick movements, and the like. They knew she was on the lookout, but Susan also knew that she had the advantage, as the only way to approach the tower was head-on and through the town._

 _She saw them again, setting the dumb ones to doing hysterical dances and howling, meant to distract her (unsuccessfully; she had long grown used to the noises) as they ran around the block. She then caught another one, moving away from the rest and doing ridiculous gymnastics to haul itself to the rooftop of a faraway building. This Lone One raised a rifle and took careful aim, but Susan was quicker as she pulled her own trigger. With the look of a practiced marksman, she looked out from behind the barrel of her rifle to see the Lone One fall. "Good plan," Susan said to herself, then proceeded to make quick work of the others. "But not good enough."_

 _After they were disposed of, another flicker of movement caught her eye. She trained her rifle on it, only for a raven to perch on edge of the silver bayonet, blocking her view of the target. She tried to shoo it away, swatting at it with her hands. "Go away, you!" she shouted at it. But the raven just looked at her with strange eyes, unmoving. "Go on! Get! You'll get me killed!" Somehow, it kept dodging her hands, as if the barrel become just long enough by some magic, or her arms just short enough, not unlike the sensation that happens upon one's eyes when looking down a hallway and realizing, with some fright, how long it seemed to stretch._

 _"_ _Look carefully," the bird advised. Susan had heard that voice before, one she thought she forgot long ago._

 _"_ _Are you…?"_

 _"Courage, dear heart," it said, then in a flutter of feathers it flew away._

 _Susan grabbed one of the pitch black feathers and stuffed it into her pocket. She then heeded the raven's advice and strained her eyes and looked closer, much closer, at this new figure. It certainly didn't move like any of the beasts she encountered. She fired a warning shot at its foot to see what it would do, and to her shock it looked up, raised its arms as if to say, "what was that for?", and shouted something she couldn't quite catch._

 _But she recognized his voice at once._

 _Now was the time to leave, else they'd both be stuck up here. Susan slung the rifle over her shoulder, walked out the door, and began making her way down the numerous ladders and steps to the Nightmare's floor._

 _"_ _Charlie, you stupid little half-wit…" she smiled, "who gave you permission to rescue me, Love?"_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Charlie had been making his way toward the tower, occasionally running into a few beasts, but for the most part he managed to evade their notice. He quickly dispatched any that came his way.

"I thought you said Tash would be sending 'hordes' of beasts my way," he said to Azaroth through the crystal.

 _Hm…It seems that I was wrong,_ she responded. _Perhaps he wants a performance, a duet starring you and Susan. Tash was always one for theatrics._

Here he had come out into the open, and in quick succession, six shots fired from the tower. Charlie's head snapped up, the blood-red sky surrounding the decrepit lookout making the bright yellow spark of a rifle fire all the brighter from the window, however small. Then a seventh shot fired, and a bullet ricocheted off the ground right next to his feet. "Whoa!" he exclaimed in shock. For the slightest second he panicked, thinking Susan was under attack in the tower, but then a memory came to him. He realized only one person had marksmanship that brilliant to be able to hit him so close. He raised his arms and shouted, "dammit, Su, watch where you're pointing that thing!"

Her small image retreated from the window. Charlie bolted off in the direction of the tower, wondering how she had obtained a rifle when she was trapped in that tower.

Finally, he reached the tower base. It was an old stone thing, as if a lighthouse had been built on the seashore, only for the water to recede and leave the structure in the dust. It was cracked and broken all the way up, and in places where the stairs broke off, ropes and ladders had been installed. The color was a horrible drab gray, with barred prison-like windows sparsely dotting the structure all the way up. The base and the broken stairs and ropes and ladders were all painted with blood, leaving almost no drab gray to be seen. The gore painted a dark red winding path upward, contrasting brilliantly with the tower's natural structure.

Susan was climbing down, nearly at the bottom. He called up to her, but she looked down and looked away again, focusing on the task at hand. Eventually, she dropped down and they embraced. "I was so worried about you," he said. "What happened? Why? How'd you escape the tower?"

She pulled away. "Slow down, Love," she said. "I don't know why I'm here. One minute I'm in my flat, the next—well, it was a flurry. I thought there was a burglar or a robber, but they came straight for me. Bound me up and dragged me away. When I woke up, I was in these filthy streets, with a Jaguar in front of me."

"Azaroth," said Charlie.

"You've met her too?"

"She's the one who brought me here. To rescue you."

Susan laughed lightly. "Love, I hardly need rescuing," she said. "I grabbed a rifle when I came to and fought my way around just fine."

Charlie looked up toward the top of the tower. "You managed to get yourself trapped in this here tower, though," he pointed out.

"What else could I have possibly done?" Susan retorted. "I had no idea how to get out, and besides, this tower is easily defensible, with only one way in or out."

"Fine, fine, you're right," Charlie sulked.

But Susan had moved on, and Charlie noticed she was looking him over, as if inspecting him. "What?"

"Well, it's just that… _Rescue_ may not be the appropriate term, but…I wouldn't mind the extra firepower."

Small footsteps were heard jumping from the rocky base of the tower. It was Azaroth. "And now that we have everyone," she said, "let's get moving." She led them behind the tower, where a wine dark red river flowed from the base.

Charlie and Susan both stared. There was nothing, just shallow ripples of sand, golden in the light from the crimson sky and the moonlight reflecting off the river. Beyond that, there was just sand, stretching as far as the eye could see and into the horizon, with the red river flowing out in a perfectly straight line and into oblivion.

A boat pulled up, a long river barge, headed by a hooded figure, tall and shadowy, and dressed in a tattered cloak as black as night. The boat was like a Viking longship without a sail or oars, and the stern was decorated with a skull. The bow of the ship curled up into the spiny tail of a monster, and the vehicle was clearly grinded away in places to make it more suitable for transportation. But it was clear after some observation that this had once been a horribly deformed beast, a man so wretched and sinful as to become a large and grotesque behemoth, but had since been destroyed and repurposed, his bones forming the structure and mast, and his horrid, scaly skin being stretched over it.

The figure held one skeletal hand on a long pole, and the other beckoned them to come aboard. Azaroth jumped aboard. "This is the only way out," she explained. "We'll have to sail to the edge of this realm, where Aslan is set to meet us."

They clambered on board, and with a strong push of the pole against the bloody riverbed, the undead river-captain whisked the three away into the unknown recesses of the abode of the damned.

* * *

 _It was in late December of 1953, about six months after they started seeing each other. Charlie had taken Susan to the shooting range when she visited him at Lakenheath. He remembered the lewd taunts and jeers of his fellow soldiers, joking about how "shooting straight" is a man's job, and a woman's job was to get him "primed"._

 _And then their stunned expressions when she hit all targets in a matter of seconds, dead center, and with a small handgun to boot. Somehow, even the targets meant for rifles had been hit._

 _She didn't even taunt back that much; she just smiled and asked sweetly, "straight enough, boys?"_

 _And Charlie just laughed, delighted and surprised at his girlfriend's hidden talent. "What else can you do that I don't know about?" he asked her quietly as they walked away._

 _"_ _I'll let you know," she said with her perfect smile. She put her hands on her hips and barked, in an exaggerated American military voice: "you're on a strictly need-to-know basis, Airman. Understood?"_

 _"_ _Understood, Captain," Charlie played along with a little salute._


	8. Chapter 8

**Tash's Nightmare Chapter 8**

Azaroth, Charlie, and Susan had been sailing for a matter of hours, but with nothing around, it felt like days. Azaroth sat delicately at the front of the boat, looking over the deformed skull. The River Servant's dark figure towered above and behind her, like a tall shadow cast upon a wall, as it gently, serenely guided the riverboat.

Charlie sat slumped over the port side, letting the rocking of the riverboat lull him to a dull mind. "Just sand," he complained. "Sand, and this damned river of blood." On multiple occasions, he could see his own reflection, but his image was always surrounded by the specter of ghouls and ghosts feasting and laughing, filling their cups and goblets in merriment. Charlie shivered.

Susan sat at the starboard end of the boat inspecting her rifle. There were no seats except for the front and very back of the boat, so she sat on the flat floor of the boat, leaning against the wall. "I do wish I had a bow and a quiver full of arrows," she said. "Rifles are so _loud,_ and rather messy for my liking." As she said this, she held up her finger to show the gunpowder that residue had stained her fingertips, as if she needed to prove it.

"This world had gunpowder when Tash took over," said Azaroth from her perch on the boat's mast. The other two looked at her confused.

"I thought this was Tash's realm," said Susan. "You mean to tell us it wasn't always?"

"Tash cannot create or destroy," she explained as she joined the other two. Charlie pulled himself from over the side and sat down as well, and Azaroth continued:

"When Tash, Zardeenah, and I were cast down from Aslan's Court, we took over a dying world plagued with sin and ruled it over as our own. They had already discovered gunpowder and were using firearms and swords in war. Their advancement was akin to London, in your own world, during the reign of your King George, or perhaps Queen Victoria. Anyway, such detail hardly matters.

When my siblings and I arrived, the realm was already in ruins. The people were at war, having delved into magic they didn't understand. Soon after our arrival, they turned into beasts, losing their sanity. Their monuments, their cities, and their legacy had been left behind in the dust, and Tash began to collect the souls of the damned from other worlds, those Aslan deemed wicked and barred entry to His country. These new souls suffered the same fate as the natives: they turned into beasts, slaughtering each other and returning to their natural forms in an endless cycle of bloodshed and violence, as sanity ebbed and flowed between them. It was amusing, a source of entertainment while we sat imprisoned (for we knew Aslan would destroy us if we dared to venture outside the realm).

I eventually grew bored and wished to go back to Aslan's Court, but Tash refused to make amends. And so, I took matters into my own hands. At great risk, I contacted Aslan and told Him I wished to return. He refused, naturally, but He did see my loyalty to Tash had already faded, so He offered a wise solution: I was to spy on Tash as he collected the souls of the damned, and report to Aslan anything of importance. And though I was never to enter His Country again, I was granted permission to travel between the other worlds to do Aslan's bidding.

Thus the Nightmare of Tash had been born, and I _re-_ born as a loyal servant to Aslan."

By the time Azaroth finished her story, the river had widened into a lake. Up ahead, there was an island. The River Servant steered towards it, and Charlie said, "wait, why are we stopping?"

Azaroth sniffed around the River Servant, looked up, and growled violently. "Tash," she hissed angrily. "He directed the River Servant to this island, and if I know my brother, he has set up a duel with one of his titans, something neither of you are likely to survive." The boat reached the sands of the island. Azaroth immediately flew to the back of the boat as Charlie and Susan clambered out.

"What's wrong?" asked Susan, concerned.

Azaroth growled again. "A spell has been set here. I cannot set foot on this island. Go, take your weapons and face whatever monstrosity Tash has set. If you survive, expect my brother to place several more such obstacles in our way—each one more dangerous and perilous than the last."

"Plenty to look forward to, I gather," Charlie quipped glumly. Susan grabbed her rifle from the boat.

A hideous wail pierced the air, no doubt coming from the tropical depths of the island. It sounded huge, and in pain. The waves and ripples of the red lake stopped, becoming dead and unmoving, as if mourning in response to the hideous, torturous cry. "A giant?" guessed Susan.

"Let's find out," said Charlie.

"Deep breaths, Love," said Susan as she took his hand.

Together, they walked forward into the forest.

 _December 9_ _th_ _, 1954_

 _They were walking down the road, dodging the bustling London crowd, eager to get to their lunch breaks or do their shopping or whatever. Susan had only finished her last lecture for the day, and Charlie had a day off. They were on their way back to Susan's flat when Susan suddenly became uneasy._

 _"_ _Oh, goodness," she said as she hid her face behind her hand. Her eyes darted around for an escape, and she spotted an alley. "Quick, in here."_

 _Charlie grabbed her arm gently, stopping her. "Why? What's wrong?" Susan motioned with a quick jerk of her head to a group of students also clearly from King's College, loudly coming towards them and looking more like playground thugs than scholars. Charlie understood. "These the guys you've been telling me about?" he asked gently. Susan nodded. Charlie thought for a moment, and tried to soothe her fears. "Look, hon, I'm sure they won't give you any trouble, okay? Just stick close to me."_

 _Susan took a few deep breaths. "Okay," she agreed, though she would truly have preferred to dodge into the alley and avoid them all together. But, taking Charlie's hand and gripping it tightly, they walked forward._

 _The crossed paths, and the boys recognized Susan, despite her attempts to remain incognito. "Well, if it ain't little lovely Susan," said one of them, a tall muscular chap who towered over the couple. "An' who's this little lad? Don' break my heart, tell me it's a lover, missy…"_

 _"_ _Bugger off, Chudley," said Susan._

 _Another one of the boys piped up, "Hoo! Chuds, the little lass has a mouth on 'er! Best teach her man to put a muzzle on it!"_

 _Charlie stood forward. "Alright, fellas, just leave her alone. Nobody wants a scene in broad daylight, right?"_

 _Chudley stepped forward, looking cross. "Was that a threat, little boy?" he asked._

 _"_ _Might've been," said Charlie in a drawl voice. "And if you're trying to look tough, you're failing miserably. My own commanding officer, who's half your size and twice your weight, looks tougher than you, and he's a total pushover…"_

 _Chudley lost his temper then as his fist flew towards Charlie's face; Charlie swatted it out of the way and returned with his own punch, hitting the large man square in the face. Chudley staggered backwards, but Charlie didn't let up, following up his attack with a flurry of punches, kicks, joint locks, and every possible way he knew to hurt a man._

 _By the time he was finished, Chudley was on the ground and unconscious. Charlie looked up to the boy's cronies. Their faces were bone white, terrified, and hoping, praying, that the American decided not to come after them. Patrolmen were coming towards the group, screaming and demanding an explanation. It took some doing, but within a few minutes, Charlie and Susan were let go, and Chudley was taken to a hospital._

 _They walked on. Susan was horrified; she thought Charlie's "lesson" would consist of a quick scuffle, not a complete loss of control. "That was unnecessary," she said after a few minutes of walking in silence._

 _Charlie was still seething. "No, it wasn't."_

 _"_ _He'll come after you."_

 _"_ _No, he won't. And he won't bother you no more, either."_

 _They argued about it the rest of the day. It was their first major quarrel, filled with yelling and screaming. Susan made it clear that she would have been happy with a few short hits to teach Chudley a lesson, but the ruthlessness Charlie displayed went beyond protecting her. In the end, she made Charlie promise that he would never lose control again._

 _"_ _But I did it for your safety!" Charlie protested angrily._

 _"_ _Oh come off it, none of them had ever gone beyond stupid taunts and catcalls!" Susan retaliated with venom. "And if you can't keep a level head at the lewd jeers of a few green boys, then you'd better grow up and get a thicker skin!"_

And that was that.

 **A/N: I know the last few chapters have been a bit slow, but I promise it'll pick up next chapter. I just couldn't fit all the action here without it being ridiculously long, so instead, I expanded on Charlie's relationship with Susan, and a little on Susan's background. Remember, this story takes place in the 50's, and at the time women rarely went to college to pursue a career. So, it makes sense that Susan would face profound sexism at the hands of her male colleagues.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Tash's Nightmare Chapter 9**

Azaroth promised to keep in touch with the couple via Charlie's crystal, hung from a leather string about his neck.

As for the island itself, it was tropical, the kind one might see in a movie or an ad for a pacific island vacation retreat: lush tropical forest interior with sandy white beaches ringing the shore. Except where the lake lapped up at the sand, it left a red stain, a marker that the island was anything but a vacation.

As for the forest itself, it wasn't nearly as beautiful due to the eternal twilight of the Nightmare realm, what with the scarlet clouds and the giant white moon shining down, giving an ethereal and decidedly creepy (some might say evil) aura to the place. And it was _quiet_.

"Too quiet," said Charlie to Susan as they walked through the forest.

Susan agreed, adding "and too _green._ " And indeed, the couple had been dodging leaves and branches so green and full of life that they looked like they were plucked straight from a painting, completely out-of-place against the bloody backdrop of the Nightmare. "And I feel as if we're constantly being watched, like something is waiting to pounce," she said.

Charlie was about to agree when he was knocked to the side by a giant something that came from nowhere. "Augh! Sonofabitch!"

What had attacked Charlie wasn't a beast like they had seen before. It looked like a giant housefly, standing on two legs, with four hideous arms protruding from its abdomen. Its head was a bulbous mass, its once-human eyes now split into many like a cell undergoing mitosis. The lines between his many eyes secreted some sticky yellow goo. On its back were thin wings, four of them, exactly like an enlarged fly's, but asymmetrical, as if when they grew out of his back something went wrong and they came out deformed and misshapen. It was abuzz with fright and fury, like a giant angry wasp, or a horde of wasps, and in a flash Charlie had drawn Liar's Laugh from its sheath and gave the thing a sharp thrust, drawing the same yellow sticky fluid instead from his eyes, bursting forth in a fountain that wasn't natural. The thing backed off, inspected its wound, and then resumed a fighting stance.

Charlie raised Liar's Laugh as the thing rushed him, but a shot rang out and it suddenly went limp as another fountain of goo burst from the side of its head, its momentum slamming it into Charlie and knocking the wind out of him as he tumbled with the lifeless corpse to the ground.

"Yuck," said Charlie as he rolled the thing off him. He got up, now covered in goo and dirt, and looked over at Susan. Her rifle was still smoking. "Thanks," he said.

"Thought I'd help out," she quipped. "Are you okay? Anything broken?"

Charlie inspected himself over, looking at his goo-covered hands. "Nothing but a few scratches here and there," he said. His pants were torn down the side below his knee by the thing's razor sharp talons, and a thin line of blood appeared.

"You're bleeding," noted Susan, pointing it out.

"It isn't deep," Charlie reassured. "Now c'mon, I think I hear more of those things coming towards us."

Susan strained her ears, hearing the mad buzzing of more of those fly-things stampeding through the forest reached them, closing in at an alarmingly fast pace. The crystal pulsed, and Charlie took Susan's hand.

 _Go to the center of the island,_ advised Azaroth.

"But that's straight towards those things!" cried Susan.

 _Tash wants a show. He'll make sure you survive long enough to give him one._

"C'mon," said Charlie, gently pulling her forward, "she's brought us this far." Susan agreed, raised her head and swallowed her anxiety. Together with Charlie, her rifle at the ready, the two charged into the forest.

...

They had been running for at least five minutes when Susan suddenly stopped, grabbing Charlie's arm and he nearly tripped. "Woah!" he exclaimed and spun around with Liar's Laugh raised. "What? What is it? Where are they"

"Sssh," Susan hissed. "Do you hear it?" she asked.

Charlie strained his ears through, but all he could hear was the awful buzzing of the monsters. It was difficult to concentrate with _those_ on their tail. "Nothing," he said. "Which is what we'll soon be, if we don't hurry!"

"Tell me what you hear."

"Those _things_!" he yelled, scared. "Now c'mon, before they make mincemeat out of us!"

" _Exactly_!" said Susan. "Those _things_ are all we can hear. They're buzzing as if they are right up beside us, all around, but where are they?"

Charlie stood still, realizing she was right; that horrible buzzing really was all he could hear, but those things weren't in sight.. Gradually, his adrenaline slowed as he sensed they weren't in immediate danger, but he held Liar's Laugh at the ready. "Just to be safe," he said, and they continued forward.

Presently, they came to a clearing. The ground was smoking, smelling of burnt wood as if a fire had recently swept through the area. "Ugh," said Susan, covering her eyes and mouth.

"Try to stomach it as much as you can," Charlie advised her. "Otherwise, you're open for ambush." There was a change in his voice, like he spoke from first-hand experience. His voice was hardened, less like her sweet Charlie and more like the Charlie that haunted his own nightmares—the ghost of a soldier.

"You know this…from Korea?" she asked cautiously.

"P.J. training," he said. "We used to run obstacle courses with a about 120 lbs. on our backs to simulate a person, and we'd do this in the rain, snow, whatever. If you dropped the weight, you failed. And it wasn't always the environment: sometimes they'd just throw shit in your face—bottles, cans, cigarette butts, anything on hand, really—but you can't let it distract you. 'Cause if it did, and you dropped the load—"

"You would fail," Susan finished for him. Charlie looked at her and smiled.

"You got it."

Susan tried her best, and for short periods of time, perhaps a minute or two, she could withstand the smoke until her eyes watered and she erupted into a small fit of coughing. But when that was over, she'd hold out for another few minutes, and slowly she found she could withstand it for longer periods of time.

She looked around when she could. The clearing was nothing but smoking soil with green lush tropical forests ringing it, seemingly unaffected by the smoke. It was about the size of a soccer field, but in the middle, there shone a great golden gleam. As they got closer, she saw it was a man, or more specifically, a knight, clad in full golden armor, polished and shining brilliantly.

But they noticed that second. The first thing they noticed was the man occupying it, for he was burned. His skin was still attached to his skull, but not much, as if a charred elastic mask had been pulled over his eye sockets. Beyond that, the armor covered everything below his neck. He didn't seem to have a helm, and he leaned forward on an enormous great sword, the blade stuck a few inches into the soil. "What in the world…" Susan gaped, astonished. She looked closely, coming up to the knight and bending down to inspect the breastplate.

"Su, stay back," warned Charlie, but she didn't listen. Instead, she looked as close as she could, and noticed through the golden glare that part of the armor was sparkling, and the shade of gold was lighter.

"Charlie, come, look at this," she said. "There's a sort of design here. Maybe it can tell us where he's from—what world, maybe."

"It's a lion," Charlie said after a moment.

"A lion…?" she mumbled to herself. "Curious." She took a step back, and was shocked to see the royal insignia of Narnia. "Cair Paravel," she said to herself forlornly, for this was the insignia of Caspian X, after they had restored him to the throne and he had abandoned the Telmarine Narnian symbols.

And at that moment, a shadow fell over the sky. The two looked up to see a black figure in a flowing robe, spread out as if the cloak was a pair of wings, revealing talons for feet as it levitated above the knight. The specter lowered itself to a few inches off the ground, and with the beak of the hooded mask it wore, it kissed the knight on the head.

The Burned Knight awoke and raised its sword.

* * *

 _Nightmare Caspian_

"Noble travelers," it spoke, and Susan immediately recognized its voice.

" _Caspian_?" she breathed, astonished, but before she could ask any more, Caspian slammed his giant sword into the ground angrily.

"Do not interrupt!" he shouted. He looked at the two, weapons raised, and continued. "Noble travelers, you have come far to seek the Nightmare's escape. But surely you know none escape Tash and his Nightmare?"

"Caspian!" shouted Susan excitedly, rushing forward. "Remember, it's Susan! High Queen Susan! We fought together against your uncle Miraz! Oh, please, please remember me!"

Caspian stared blankly, then swatted her aside and she went flying, hitting the ground with a roll. "Susan!" shouted Charlie as he ran to her side.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Susan waved him off, then erupted into a fit of coughing.

Azaroth came through to both. _That is not Caspian,_ she said. _It's an imperfect phantom copy of Caspian X, assembled by Tash as a guardian of some sort._

Charlie stood up and faced Caspian. "Let us pass," he demanded.

"Beyond here lies the House of Illusion," said Caspian. "There is no escape from the Nightmare of Exalted Tash, the Irresistible, but if you wish to enter the house, I may be challenged for entry."

Azaroth's voice came through. _Do it,_ she advised. _This invisible house he speaks of holds the spell that keeps us from moving forward._

Susan came up beside Charlie, having recovered from her coughing fit. "What are the terms?" she asked.

"You will both fight me at once, to keep our match fair and honorable," said the Caspian Phantom. "To defeat me, only one of you must draw first blood."

"And for you to win?" asked Susan.

"My victory results in both of your deaths."

"What if we refuse?" asked Charlie.

"You have no choice in the matter." Then the Phantom raised its sword, and with surprising speed he rushed them, bellowing, " _begin_!"

They barely had time to dodge out of the way.

Susan had her rifle at the ready, constantly moving forward towards the Phantom and backing away when he attacked. Charlie stayed behind the trees at the edge of the clearing, calling out to Susan. "Su! Back off!"

It was no use. Though the giant Phantom was slow and lumbering, its armor clanging and clamoring as it stomped around, and though Susan was agile, one hit would do her in. Cursing under his breath, Charlie rushed forward and intervened, shoving Susan away from a swing of the Phantom's sword that would have taken her head off. "Get back behind cover," he commanded. "I'll join you. Run!"

"Don't _shove_ me!"she shrieked, sudden anger flaring up within her. She dodged around another swing of the Phantom's sword. "I could've been killed!"

"I saved your life!" Charlie argued back, ducking under a wide swing of the Phantom's free hand. "I have a plan, just _listen to me!_ "

Susan ignored him. "Y'know, I happen to have battle experience too," she reminded him, furious, as she rushed forward with her bayonet. She was too slow and the Phantom swung at her legs. She barely jumped over it in time. "I was the High Queen of Narnia! What do you think a queen does in wartime? Throw a picnic?"

"YES!" shouted Charlie. He dodged a stomp of the Phantom's legs, and tried to swipe at the gap in his armor at the back of the knee with Liar's Laugh, but he was too far away and missed by an inch. "That's what queens do!"

"LOOK OUT!"

Charlie turned his head and went sprawling through the air, having been smacked by the Phantom's heavy golden hand, flying across the clearing as blood and phlegm trailed from his mouth and nose, knocked out of his body by the force of impact.

Susan's rage welled up to an unbearable point. The world slowed as her blood boiled. She saw red and she shrieked again, not from her throat but from somewhere deep within her soul, something less than human and clouding her mind, rendering her unable to think.

She gripped her rifle and bolted forward, swinging the bayonet wildly. She was still shrieking, over and over, as she forced the Phantom Caspian back, further and further, dodging around him and forcing him to defend on all sides. Her cries were inhuman, mimicking the mad beasts from the city. The silver blade of her bayonet flashed in the moonlight, drawing a glowing line from side to side in the air as it scratched the armor. More than once, her finger pulled the trigger without her realizing it in her fury, and shots rang out left and right.

Eventually the Phantom was backed up at the edge of the clearing, and with nowhere further to retreat, he fell to his knees as smoke rose from within the armor, his scarred and burned face smothered in black as his body dissolved, leaving the golden armor to clang into a heap on the ground. Its brilliant golden sheen was gone, replaced with a dull rust that accompanied the now yellowish armor.

When the smoke cleared, Susan was still slashing at nothing, her rage refusing to subside. Charlie stood behind her, Azaroth at his side. She growled, a sound that reverberated through the ground and into Susan's bones. She calmed down immediately and collapsed to her knees on the ground, breathing hard and exhausted.

* * *

"The Nightmare is infecting you," said the Jaguar.

Susan didn't even turn her head. "I thought you couldn't be here," she said, her tired voice barely above a whisper.

"I was wrong, it seems," said Azaroth as she began to groom her paws. "This curse has two parts: one to keep me off the island, and the other to keep me from entering the House of Illusion."

"Once the Phantom was destroyed, the first part was lifted," said Charlie. At the sound of his voice, Susan leapt up and embraced him.  
"I was so scared," she breathed. "How are you still walking?"

"I healed him," said Azaroth. "Not completely, but enough."

At the center of the clearing, the air shimmered, and into existence there came a great wooden door, looking as if belonged to a great countryside manor. The double doors opened and a great hallway appeared beyond, a red carpet set down the center and leading into a darkness. On either side of the hall were pillars and ancient statues, reminiscent of people turned to stone. There were fauns, satyrs, men, women, children, animals, and indescribable creatures from other worlds, all lined haphazardly along the walls.

"Walk forward, you two," said Azaroth. "Find the source of this curse and kill it, so I may enter the house and destroy this island, allowing us to sail forward."

"What's preventing you from destroying the island now?" asked Charlie.

"Remember, Tash is more powerful than I," she reminded. "I may be loyal to Aslan, but my brother rules this realm. If I were to outstrip his power, he would destroy the realm."

"And that's a bad thing?" asked Susan with a tone.

Azeroth began grooming her paws again. "Where do you think the damned went before the Nightmare's creation?" she explained irritably. "Aslan had taken in the good souls, but turned the wicked away. With nowhere to go, they simply roamed around the Wood Between Worlds, falling into the middle realms and causing trouble. The Nightmare is a solution to that problem; its destruction would set free countless wicked souls."

"Pandora's box," said Charlie glumly.

"Indeed," said Azaroth. "Now go—I sense no beasts in the House of Illusion, so you may search everywhere for the curse's source without distraction."

"Will you be waiting for us?" asked Susan.

"I have other business to attend to, but I'll know when you have completed your task." Azaroth then bounded away and vanished in a puff of grey smoke.

The doors closed of their own accord behind the two, and they walked forward into the House of Illusion.


	10. Chapter 10

**Tash's Nightmare Chapter 10**

The door shut and disappeared, leaving them in a great hallway with no escape. Though they could only see about fifteen feet in all directions, as they moved forward, so did the light, yet they could see no source. It was as if a bubble of light stayed centered on them, sliding along the hallway as they moved.

What they could see was all the same, even after walking in the one—and only—direction they could for fifteen minutes. Nothing but decrepit brick walls, lined on either side with the stone statues, and occasionally a rotting corpse or a skeleton. Sometimes swords or arrows protruded from the corpses, some clad in parts of armor, and still some on the floor embracing a smaller corpse. "This isn't a house," said Susan, "we're going down, into the earth. It's a tunnel, or a tomb, rather." She looked at another corpse, this one leaning against the wall with a sword at its left and a round wooden shield at its right hand. An arrow protruded from its eye socket and Susan shivered, quickly looking away.

Charlie sniffed the air and disagreed. "No…" he said slowly, hesitantly. "I've been near dead bodies—piles of them, and they always reek. I can't smell a damn thing." Susan sniffed the air and agreed with him, and he continued, "besides, something about this place feels…false. Like it's not really here."

"It is called the House of Illusion," she reminded him. For quite a while, that was the last thing said, as the couple was too unsettled to attempt any further conversation. After a long while the hallway came to an end rather suddenly, running into a wall made of the same yellow bricks that confined them on either side of the tunnel.

"Well now what?" said Charlie.

Susan put her hand on the wall. "It's solid," she declared.

"Thanks, eagle-eye."

A cold, biting draft hit them from behind. Susan shivered, pulling her sundress closer to her body. Charlie turned around as his face went pale. "We can't get out," he announced.

"How do you know, Love?"

"I just know," he snapped. "That draft wasn't normal."

Not knowing what else to do, and struggling not to panic, he struck Liar's Laugh against the wall, and a loud clang reverberated through the air. Susan stepped back as Charlie stuck the wall again and again, becoming angrier with each strike. Sparks flew from the wall as thin scratches were drawn on the bricks.

"Stop for a minute," she said as she grabbed his arm. She pulled him back and pointed at the top of the wall. "Look."

"What? What am I looking at?"

"Don't you see that... _stuff..._ coming out of the walls?"

Charlie strained his eyes, seeing something shimmering in the dim lighting. "It looks like slime," he noted.

"I think it looks like moss," said Susan. Whatever it was, it grew from the bricks in vine-like patterns, branching out to form strange glyphs neither could recognize. Susan said, "it's some kind of foreign language. Do you recognize it?"

"Nope," he answered. "Actually, wait a sec—"

"I think I can—"

"It's kinda familiar…"

"See through me, for I am nothing," they read aloud at the same time.

Then they laughed.

"How did we—how did we read that?" asked Susan, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Magic, maybe," said Charlie. "But it still doesn't mean anything," he lamented. He walked forward, thinking he'd hit the wall. "I mean, what are we supposed to do? Just walk—"  
He vanished, seemingly walking through the wall as if it weren't there. Then the wall itself vanished, and Susan was greeted by the sight of a very confused Charlie, stammering out the rest of his statement: "walk…right…through…?" She stepped in after him.

* * *

 _Jadis, the White Witch_

 _-and-_

 _Nightmare Edmund_

They were in a small throne room. Torches lined the walls of the circular chamber, providing a dim light. The bricks were the same color as the hallway. In the center, on a raised marble platform, there was a silver chair, and upon it sat someone Susan never hoped to see again.  
"It's the White Witch!" she shouted in alarm, quickly aiming her rifle.

The White Witch laughed a weak, sputtering, but undeniably malicious, laugh. "Edmund, come, greet your sister!" she croaked. Her voice had changed since her reigning days in Narnia, becoming horribly withered and worn out. But at her command, a huge lurking figure emerged from the shadows. This thing was, undeniably, King Edmund the Just, plucked straight from Cair Paravel, but his face was scarred and stitched, looking like a twisted Frankenstein's Monster rather than a king in his glory days. He wore faded leather armor, and a two-handed longsword was sheathed on his back. "There's a good Turkish Delight in it for you, that's a good dear!" croaked the Witch as Nightmare Edmund drew his sword. He lumbered towards them, as if he had forgotten to walk and only just recently begun to learn again.

Susan and Charlie drew their weapons. "Do you have a plan this time?" asked Charlie sarcastically.

"Hit him till he falls," answered Susan, just as sarcastically.

And with that, she ducked under Edmund's first swing, quickly coming back up and responding with a quick stab in the back. Edmund lurched in shock, groaned, and turned rather quickly. He swung down, narrowly missing Susan as she ducked out of the way, and Charlie came up behind him with Liar's Laugh, drawing a cut across the leather. Hot blood dripped onto the cold stone floor, and Edmund seemed to move quicker, lumbering less as his movements became more coordinated. His next swing missed Charlie, who ducked under it, but rather than pause and reorient himself, Edmund quickly stepped to the side and swung it back around at Susan.

It was too quick for her to dodge. The only thing she could do was block the blow with her rifle, swinging the barrel of the gun to her side to lessen the blow when it hit, but rather than splinter into millions of pieces as she expected (the rifle was made of lightweight metal and wood) the great sword hit with a large clang, sending shockwaves through her body, and Edmund's as well, it seemed, as he stood there stunned in place.

As this happened, Charlie was thrown back by a gust of wind, hurtling towards a spike of ice that had grown from the wall behind the Witch, who now stood as she directed her magic. With a mid-air swipe of Liar's Laugh, the tip of the spike was blunted and he hit his head instead, fell on the floor and saw stars. The White Witch was sauntering towards him, her tattered dress sweeping around dirt and filth on the floor until she stood above Charlie, smiling and reveling in her near-victory. Beneath him, the ground turned cold and a blue circle appeared as her magic took effect, then disappeared again as the Witch screamed in pain and fright. "AIIIIEEEE!"

Charlie slashed her legs at the last second, giving him enough of an advantage to stand up and stab her through the heart. Her teeth seemed to grow, but soon it became apparent that her skin and muscles were peeling back and melting away, starting from inside her mouth, over her face, revealing her skull, then traveling down and exposing her spine, ribs, arms, and finally her legs, and she collapsed, the tattered dress billowing around her as the old and yellowed bones fell in a haphazard heap.

Susan was still battling Edmund, but his mistress's death had freed him, falling to one knee as the Nightmare's effect took hold of him, turning him into a beast as if the Witch's magic had held it back. He groaned and looked up in pain, his skull elongated, his teeth sharpened to a point, and as his groan turned into a snarl, Susan jabbed him with the butt of her rifle and shot him, then stabbed him through the neck as he lay on the floor. His transformation was incomplete; he was somewhere between half-"man" and half-wolf.

* * *

Charlie came over to her side. "That was intense," he said.

Susan nodded in agreement. "I need to rest," she said.

"Me too," he agreed, "so let's get this curse thing over with so we can get out of here."

"You can both sleep on the boat," said Azaroth's voice from behind them. They both jumped, startled at her presence.

"I thought we had to clear the curse from this place before you could enter!" exclaimed Susan.

Azaroth looked at the pile of bones that was once the White Witch of Narnia. "That was the curse," she said, looking back at them. She began to groom herself yet again. "I expected something more of my brother," she lamented in disappointment. "Perhaps a song to sing or a riddle to solve, but not a sparring match. There's no class in dog fighting."

"A dog fight?" Charlie repeated angrily. "We're both covered in blood and bruises, and you think it's a dog fight? We could've been killed!"

"So, what? I'm on your side, but I find just as much entertainment in this as Tash," she fired back.

"It's a game to you," said Susan in a glum tone of voice, her eyes downcast. "You're on Aslan's side simply because He's not Tash, because He's something new. You're drawn to Him like a harlot, a mistress who's bored of her husband."

"That is exactly what I am, lovely," chimed Azaroth, brushing off the insult. Before the conversation could go any further, she continued: "go back to the boat while I destroy this island."

The walls of the House of Illusion began to crumble as the ground began to shake, and the two humans fled.

 **A/N: School started back up. Updates will not be rare, but they will be slightly longer in coming.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Tash's Nightmare Chapter 11**

They had been sailing for hours. Susan, exhausted and still healing with Azaroth's magic, drifted in and out of sleep, while Charlie did more or less of the same across from her, both leaning against the side of the boat as they sat on the ground. The boat creaked as it bobbed, the River Servant silently steering it across the lake of blood, and Azaroth was off taking care of "other business" (she refused to say what that entailed). At times, they slept. In fact, sleeping was what they did most of the time. Azaroth's magic had been hard at work healing them both, and they were both bruised and sore.

"Can't it work any faster?" Susan complained to her before they left the island.

"It could," the Jaguar answered, "but to do so would require the full focus of the spell. For now, it heals, and it also keeps your hunger and thirst satiated."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, groggily.

Azaroth turned to face them. "Did you not notice?" she asked, exasperatedly.

Susan had a confused look on her face. "Notice what?"

"You haven't consumed anything since you arrived," she explained. " _That_ is the working of my magic—to stop that function would indeed heal you faster, but you would be malnourished by the end of it."

"Which defeats the purpose of healing," Charlie finished for her.

"Exactly," said Azaroth, and then proceeded to bound ahead of them.

So now the two humans sat, sleeping, sitting, doing plenty of nothing. It was maddening. Charlie eventually broke the silence. "Y'know, we could entertain each other," he suggested.

"How so?" asked Susan. Charlie leaned in and kissed her intently, but Susan pushed him away and slapped him.

"Ow!" Charlie's hand flew to his red and stinging cheek. "What was that for?"

"Are you sick?" she yelled, furious. "Now, of all times, you think this is a good idea? Did you forget where we are?" She angrily stuck a finger towards the River Servant. "And we're not alone, in case you've forgotten."

"You got any better ideas?" Charlie shot back defensively. "'Cause I'd gladly hear them!"

Susan slumped over the side of the boat, lazily letting her hand hang a few inches above the Lake's surface, too tired to raise her voice again. "Let's just…watch the Lake," she suggested, in a quieter and calmer tone. "Maybe we'll see something interesting."

But the lake was just red and bloody, and was totally dead; it was like a great red mirror, but with the apparitions Charlie saw earlier. For entertainment, the couple tried to study them, but the things were too bizarre and too scary, so they stopped watching. Eventually, they fell back asleep.

Charlie woke up to the crystal pulsing against his chest. Susan felt it too, as she leaned up against him while they slept with their backs against the wall. Azaroth's voice came through. _You will reach land soon. An agent of mine awaits ashore. He will lead you to Tash's next game._

And sure enough, after about an hour the boat waded up to the shore, wedging partially into wet sand. Charlie fastened Liar's Laugh to his belt, then climbed out and helped Susan disembark, her rifle slung over her back. Their feet made a wet splash in the shallow water, coming up to their ankles, but they ignored the wet stickiness as they plodded on the beach.

This island was unlike the last one. They stood before a wide green valley, with emerald colored grass, ringed by heavily forested mountains all around in a wide C-shape along the horizon. Right beside the shore where the sand met the grass stood a dilapidated and burned out wooden barn. Beside it, a figure huffed and puffed, pawing his hoof anxiously against the ground. Charlie realized it was a donkey, but it looked like zombified: all over his body, the hide was falling off in patches, revealing red meat and bone. His bones were yellow where exposed, and the muscle beneath his hide was glistening and red. His belly was gone, his exposing his ribcage completely. He had only one ear, the other a bloody stump that looked as if the ear had been torn out like a weed in a garden. His nose and mouth were frothing red, drooling as well. His teeth were bloodstained, no doubt from his own necrosis about his face, and his eyes were a faded and tired yellow. He snorted.

Charlie whipped Liar's Laugh from his sheath in alarm, but Susan approached him carefully as if she recognized the donkey. "Susan!" he hissed at her, but she ignored him.

The donkey didn't move, seemingly unperturbed by the strange girl's slow and steady approach. She stopped in front of him, bent down to level her own gaze with the animal's dead face, and looked him in the eye.

"Rabadash?"

 **A/N: Short chapter, I know, but I felt like I needed to slow down the pace a little bit, because a lot of things happened back in Chapter 10.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Tash's Nightmare Chapter 12**

"So, he wanted to marry you?" Charlie asked for what had to be the hundredth time. Rabadash had immediately taken to leading them across the valley, taking a winding and particular route through the open grassy field that seemed to have neither rhyme nor reason to it, as if he were following some narrow unseen path.

Susan rolled her eyes and sighed. She had told Charlie the story of Rabadash, and his transformation from a cruel prince into a donkey in her Narnia days. And yes, she had told him how Rabadash wanted to marry her. "For the last time, _yes_ ," she said through clenched teeth.

Charlie bent down and whispered to the former Calormen, "stay away from her." Rabadash growled in return, and Charlie, taken by surprise, jumped at the very un-donkeyish sound. "What the hell was that?" he barked.

Susan laughed.

"It ain't funny, Su," Charlie snarled, but Susan kept laughing.

"I beg to differ, Love," she insisted as she wiped a tear from her eye.

From then on, they were more focused on following their donkey guide. Rabadash stopped every few feet to munch on grass, sniff at the ground, and occasionally growl ahead into the air. "He acts more like a dog than a donkey," Charlie noted. Susan nodded in agreement, remaining silent as she focused on their guide. "I don't think he knows where he's going," Charlie continued.

"What other choice do we have?" said Susan.

"None, I guess…"

So they followed. After about fifteen more minutes of aimless wandering (or so it seemed), Rabadash stopped, buried his snout into the grass, snorting like a hog, and came back up with a bluish crystal around his nose, much like Azaroth's. He walked toward Susan who snatched it and put it on.

 _There_ , a voice came through to both of their heads. It was deep, regal, but undeniably broken, its hollow echo lamenting in the heads of the two listeners. _Our scent should be masked._

"Wait a minute," Charlie snapped angrily (having figured out who the voice belonged to) " _that's_ why we were walking around for hours?"

 _That, and I had misplaced my translation crystal._

Susan held Charlie back, as he was about to attack the donkey in frustration. "Patience, Charlie," she chided, then turned to Rabadash. "Now that you have the crystal, and our scent is masked, can you take us to where we need to be?"

 _The mouth of the Cave,_ said Rabadash, _is our destination. For now, we rest._ The donkey lay down on the grass and began munching absent-mindedly.

"Why do we have to wait?" Charlie asked angrily.

 _Sleep as much as you can,_ Rabadash answered. _The Cave of Sleeplessness is the lair of the Faithless Queen._

And that was that.

 _In about a mile, we will reach the Cave,_ said Rabadash. They had been walking for hours, stopping to rest at various points and sleep.

Susan had been chatting with the donkey, and Charlie had gleaned most of the story: Rabadash's Narnian country of Calormen, of his lust for "Queen Susan," of his plan to conquer Narnia, and his transformation into a donkey by Aslan.

"I don't like you talking to him," Charlie mentioned to her at one of their numerous resting points. "He could be dangerous."

"A weak argument, really," snapped Susan. "If you're jealous, well, that's too bad, isn't it?" She turned to look at Rabadash. "And besides, Love, he's a donkey."

This did little to assuage Charlie's fears. Perhaps Rabadash sensed that, for soon after Susan had fallen asleep, the donkey plodded over and lay down beside him.

 _Fear not,_ he said.

"I'm not afraid," Charlie answered curtly.

Rabadash made a sound akin to a chuckle. _Afraid? Perhaps not,_ he agreed. _Jealousy seems a better fit for what you feel now._

Charlie stared ahead. "Why are you helping us?" he asked after a moment.

 _Because I wish to leave the Nightamare, and Azaroth promised to appeal to Aslan on my behalf,_ answered the donkey.

"I don't believe you."

 _That is the extent of my motives,_ Rabadash answered simply. _If you believe I will begin to court Susan again, you have my word that I will not. I wanted the High Queen of Narnia, to add Narnia to the realm of Calormen. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with power and territory._

"Politics," scoffed Charlie.

 _Indeed._

* * *

They were standing at the edge of a wide mouth of a cave. It was dark, and like the House of Illusion, it sloped downward gradually into the earth. Susan and Charlie stood on either side of Rabadash as hot, stale air blew out like a furnace and stamping their clothing to their suddenly sweaty skin.

 _This is the Cave of Sleeplessness, the Lair of the Faithless Queen,_ said Rabadash. _Her minions await us inside._

"Let's get going then," said Susan. She took a confident step forward. Charlie and Rabadash followed slowly, and immediately all three felt a sense of dread as their heart rate sped up to a pounding, but not urgent pace. It was like feeling wide awake after a sleepless night, knowing that an inevitable crash looms but an hour or two away.

"We won't fall asleep," Charlie stated, his tone full of apprehension and dreadful excitement. "What about this Queen you mentioned? Do we at least get an even playing field here?"

 _In terms of handicap, yes, you are even,_ answered Rabadash. _But though sleepless, the Faithless Queen is attended to by the Faithless, her army of sleepless servants. There are many more of them than there are you_.

They walked on in silence after that. Charlie, not knowing when they were going to meet these "servants" took to his training and observed his surroundings. _There'll be times in the field where you won't know where you are,_ he heard Col. Andrews' voice. _Sure, you can point out where you were on a map, but what does it look like on the ground? What's the terrain like? What are the enemy's patrol routes? How many are there?_

Charlie smiled at the memory of the unusually soft-spoken officer.

 _…You have one mission as a P.J.: find the target, grab the target, and get the fuck out. Ten seconds of solid observation can save both your lives._

So, Charlie did just that. And at first glance, he was reminded of the House of Illusion: they were in a small narrow hallway, dimly lit, and it seemed to slope gradually into the earth. The walls, however, were different. They seemed to be roughly hacked away until a scraggly tunnel remained, and the walls and ground had been lined with letters, glyphs, what looked like mathematical equations, and strange symbols he couldn't identify. "What are these symbols?" he asked aloud.

Rabadash answered. _Those are the ravings of the Faithless._

"They don't look entirely coherent," noted Susan. "They look like…" she struggled to find the right words.

"Scribbles?" suggested Charlie.

"Yes, scribbling is a good way to describe it, I suppose."

 _These 'scribbings' are the thoughts of those whose genius bred pride that gave into vanity and selfishness, and at the end, led to madness,_ explained Rabadash. _And thus, the Faithless are born into the Nightmare._

They came to a wall and stopped. Rabadash walked up to it, sniffing the rough-hewn rock. _They are on the other side,_ he announced.

"Who?" asked Susan.

 _The Faithless, and their Queen. She dwells among her army, carried on a gilded silver litter. Stay calm, do not make noise, and you will reach her unharmed. Attack and they will descend upon us._

"You seem to know quite a bit about these folks," Charlie noted suspiciously.

 _I have walked among them in the past,_ he admitted, _but they were only a curiosity. Now, they are an obstacle. Stand back._

The wall crumbled, shook, and sank into the ground, dust and gravel falling from opening. The ground creaked as the wall descended into it, like a rusty un-oiled machine that hadn't been used in years.

When the wall completely descended, an army of people stared back at the trio with dead, beady eyes. They were malnourished, carrying cudgels and swords and long-knives with a grip so tight their fingers bled and cracked. Their tattered clothing varied: some wore scholarly robes, others luxurious and noble flowing capes, and others in the styles of countless different worlds.

In the middle of the crowd, there sat a woman held aloft by four or five servants on a silver gilded litter, curtains long ago torn away, leaving tattered rags hung to the top, a faded sickly purple. The woman who sat there was blindfolded, sitting cross-legged, with hair as white as snow and flowing down her back, a torn noblewoman's dress with the sleeve slumping down her right shoulder, and holding a knife in front of her in both hands.

Susan pointed to the woman. "Look; her hands and feet are bound."

"And bloody," said Charlie.

 _The Faithless, and the Faithless Queen,_ announced Rabadash, a sense of dread echoing in his voice.

 **A/N: Had bad case of writer's block. I'm worried about the overall quality and flow of this chapter, and I would love to hear some feedback.**


	13. Chapter 13

_Stay still,_ said Rabadash. He was clearly shaking with fear, his exposed bones rattling against each other in a chattering shiver. _Stay still,_ the donkey repeated, and it became clear he was talking more to himself than the other two.

"I thought you said you'd been here before," whispered Susan, harshly.

 _Not quite,_ he replied, stammering. _I have been, but—but—well…_

The Bound Lady looked up, staring directly at the trio as if the cloth over her eyes didn't exist. "Rabadash," she said, her voice a smooth, lilting, sing-song, at complete odds with her surroundings. "How nice of you to return. I thought I had lost my precious pet…"

 _A pet?_ Charlie thought to himself. _If he was a pet in the past to her, and ran away…_ "He was one of them," Charlie suddenly realized aloud. "You were sent here with these people after you died, but you escaped to the surface."

Rabadash didn't answer, by now immobilized through fear.

"Bring them to me," said the Bound Lady, pointing a disgustingly wrinkled and bony finger towards them. Her Faithless followed her command, closing in on them, but stopped in their tracks when Charlie and Susan both drew their weapons.

They moved in again, the crowd closing, the space around them becoming smaller and smaller. Rabadash was shivering violently with fear, eyes lost in the memories of his time as a Faithless.

" _Wake up!"_ shouted Charlie, slapping him with the flat of Liar's Laugh. The metal rang on the exposed ribcage, sending a peal through the air as Rabadash suddenly sprang to life.

 _NO!_ Rabadash vaulted in front of the two, baring his donkey teeth. _I will stay. Let these two pass._

"Suddenly feeling chivalrous, noble Rabadash?" slithered the Bound Lady. "I rather miss your company, I do. Come beside me; I wish to stroke your fur."

 _Let these two pass first,_ the donkey negotiated.

"Leap to my side first, _Pet._ "

 _I see,_ said Rabadash. _In life, I should have followed Aslan,_ he lamented, more to himself than anyone present at that moment.

"Do you really feel anything for these two, Rabadash?" mocked the Bound Lady. "They're nothing—just a soldier without a war and a pretty girl wasting her days in lecture halls."

 _And what was I?_ asked Rabadash. When she didn't answer, instead curling her lip in a victorious sneer, he continued, _if, on sight, you think so little of these strangers, what benefit do they bring if they stay? Let them go, and I will return to your side._

The Bound Lady angled her head downward, as if shifting her gaze away from his. "Fine," she grunted, displeased. "Faithless, guide them to the Southern Harbor."

The Faithless parted, creating a path through the crowd. Two stepped forward, spears at the backs of the couple, and they were herded away. Susan looked back, seeing Rabadash's forlorn gaze following them, before a sharp thrust from the butt of a spear forced her to look forward.

* * *

"We have to go back," said Susan. They had emerged from the Cave of Sleeplessness to find the River Servant waiting for them, the canoe docked at a rotting wooden pier, stained and sticky with the lake.

"Are you crazy?" said Charlie. "That lady clearly wanted us prisoners, and now that we're out you want us to go _back_?"

"It's only right. He sacrificed his own chance at freedom for us."

"His _chance_ at freedom," countered Charlie. "Aslan might not let him leave."

"And we might not make it out alive, either!" snapped Susan. "What difference does it make? Clearly, the Bound Lady can negotiate, so fighting might not be necessary."

"She already _did_ negotiate!" he argued. "She got what she wanted, and she might change her mind and come for us! The longer we wait, the less our chances of getting back home."

"Who cares?" yelled Susan into the air. "We don't even know where we're going! For all we know, in the next island or two we might find ourselves facing Tash himself! It might be a hundred trials before we actually make it back home."

"I CARE!" shouted Charlie. "No matter how long it takes, I want to get home back to my nice life with you, where there ain't any magic, or talking cats, or your creepy donkey ex-boyfriend—"

She slapped him across the face. Charlie reeled from the sudden impact as a loud crack rang through him, his cheek red and stinging. " _I_ thought you cared," said Susan through clenched teeth. Tears were rolling down her cheek. "I thought you were more than just a _soldier,_ that you were above jealousy and violence." She spun around on her heels and began making her way towards the Cave.

"SU, wait up!" Charlie called after her, but she didn't stop.

"I'm going to rescue Rabadash," she declared. "By my guest if you'd like to join me."

Charlie stood where he was, confident in the first few moments that she was bluffing, but she didn't stop, turn around, and run into his arms as he expected. She just kept walking, rifle slung over her shoulder, further and further away. Charlie's head told himself to move, that it was the right thing to do, and not send her to her doom alone, while his heart said it was too dangerous, that Susan had to know that, that she was a smart gal, and she was certainly bluffing…but she didn't stop. Soon, she had made it to the cave entrance, and she didn't look back at him one last time as she pulled open the heavy wooden doors and began descending the long spiral staircase, lower and lower, until it was just her head visible above the ground…

And she was gone.

* * *

 _It was dark. He saw the shimmering Blood Lake as he sat upon his throne in the Nightmare's Skies, admiring its beauty, like a beautiful ruby._

 _But as of now, he could not bring himself to enjoy the site. His beak was dry, deprived of its usual flow of souls from the numerous worlds. His chains chafed his six wrists, and his ankles were stripped to the bone after so many eternities against the divine metal._

 _"What ails you, my lord?" asked his sister-wife Zardeenah. She took the form of a slender hag with goat's feet, a long silvery sword at her waist that she stole off a soul ages ago. Her shimmering blue eyes turned to him, framed by deceitfully beautiful and pure white shoulder-length hair._

 _He didn't meet her gaze. "Azaroth is nowhere to be found?" he asked her._

 _She looked back over the Lake in shame. "No, my lord. She may not be here."_

 _And then his empty eyes, full of thousands of stolen souls, began to tear up with the lost souls' blood. He jerked violently against his restraints, the divine chains suddenly taut, struggling against his rage as Tash lifted himself partway out of his throne. "No!" he roared. "You have failed me, wife!"_

 _"I know, my lord," she apologized, ashamed. "I am sorry."_

 _He was about to punish her, his beak open and lay a temporary curse on her, when his horns began to itch. He stopped and relaxed. His bride took notice and turned back to him, perplexed. "Is everything alright, Tash?"_

 _"Aslan," he slithered in a long, drawling sigh. He sat back down, his divine chains jingling in relief as he did so._

 _Zardeenah followed his gaze over the Lake. The Lion was near indeed, His face miles away, standing on the lake as if it were solid ground, but His face was as clear as if He were just a few feet away._

 _Aslan sighed and closed his eyes. A soft breeze tickled the Fallen One's feathery face, and a message fell from its winds. "You overstepped."_

 _Tash sent back his own message, wings unfurling from his back as he whipped up a frenzied gust to carry his message. "Nonsense, brother," he taunted. "I am simply minding my own business and tending my own realm. Why bother my humble family down here?"_

 _Another soft breeze fell on the pair. "Do not feign ignorance. This transgression will not go unpunished. The Emperor will see to it."_

 _"Father is useless, and you are little more than his pet," Tash fired back. "Do you think he cares for you? How sweet."_

 _Aslan merely sighed and vanished. Tash's face fell as he failed to enrage his enemy. "Kill them," he instructed Zardeenah._

 _"And Azeroth?" she inquired._

 _"I will deal with her," he said, swiping his three left hands dismissively. "But the Lion must know his chains are weakening. Soon we will be free."_

 _"To hear is to obey," said Zardeenah, and she vanished into the city below._


End file.
